


Glorious king of weak lands  book I

by Mirkwood



Series: Glorious King of Weak Lands [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 82
Words: 376,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkwood/pseuds/Mirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is the hot-headed prince of Greenwood, struggling with a strict father, an envious step-brother, and a girl he is determined to capture.</p><p>Yet war accrues and gradually everything is consumed in darkness and loss is all that remains for the young prince along with a weak land and hopeless people. Love, loyalty, and friendships are tested and even the most powerful bonds can never stay the same forever. This is a story of love, loss…and betrayal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic and I'm a non-native, so I'll be honored to have your reviews... thanks :-)

It was a nice spring day when lord Elrond reached the mighty palace which lay in the heart of the Greenwood the Great. The trees of the forest stood tall like strong guards and the never ending music of the birds brought joy to any guest of this land. It had been a while since Elrond had last seen Oropher. He knew about the prejudiced ideas of Oropher about the Noldor, but times had changed from those days and he was now here for some trade negotiations.

King Oropher was standing in the tall doorway of his palace along with his wife; Queen Harma. Elrond was slightly relieved to see her at his side as he did not exactly cherish any kind of alone contact with Oropher. But Harma was warm and welcoming.  When Elrond dismounted along with his companions Oropher came closer to greet him and his company.  Elrond lowered his head slightly in respect for the king, and the king merely nodded in reply.

 " Welcome my lord…I bet you had a tiring journey."

 

" Indeed your majesty, yet your beautiful land takes all the weary away…"

Elrond then turned to the Queen. “My Lady” he said as he kissed her hand. “You shine like the sun as always, your majesty…”

Harma gave a shy smile and she blushed. “You are most kind My Lord, Welcome. We have the guest chambers ready for you and your company. Perhaps you would like to rest before the feast tonight…”

“We very much like to my lady.”

With this the King and the Queen accompanied the group to the chambers. Elrond knew he needed a good rest and a good feast to make his nerves ready for the battle with the solid Oropher tomorrow. He had to trade very important herbs that had been recently discovered in these blessed woods, and he knew well that these negotiations might take weeks, even months with someone like Oropher who never gave anything with a low price.

“I didn’t see Prince Thranduil your majesty. I hope he is in good health.” Elrond said as they walked through the corridors. He didn’t miss when Oropher slightly rolled his eyes but then Harma answered instead.

 “He is at archery training. A contest will be held tomorrow between the soldiers who have finished their trainings this year and the winner will be the captain of the legions. It is an important event, so excuse him my lord.” She said with a smile.

“But that contest is not as important as my request from him to accompany me to greet my guest.” Oropher barked.

Elrond immediately caught the fact that this conversation had probably taken place between the king and the queen several times in the past days and he cursed himself for opening the issue.

“The prince is young my king. I still remember my own enthusiasm for these contests at his age.” Elrond said, and he was rewarded by an appreciating look from Harma.

“He _is_ young, but he is not just anyone, he is a _prince_ and he must fulfill his duties.” Oropher said firmly.

“Alright husband, live the poor child for an instant…” Harma said as they reached the guest chamber. Then she turned to face Elrond with a wide smile. “We bid you a good rest my lord. We’ll see you at the feast tonight.”

***

Although the feast at the court of the king was fantastic and joyful as always and the king engaged in smooth conversations with the lords at his table but Elrond couldn’t help noticing Oropher’s annoyance through the first hours of the feast while Thranduil was again absent. Harma was trying so hard to strike the mood at the royal table but her attempts were in vein.  Until the guard at the door announced the prince’s arrival and Elrond could swear he heard Harma let out a sigh of relieve.

 

The prince entered accompanied by his steward and close friend Galdor. Elrond couldn’t hide his surprise by seeing Thranduil. He had last seen him when he was a little elfling playing in the woods, once he had seen Oropher years ago before he moved to Greenwood. But that Thranduil had grown into perhaps the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He was dressed in dark green robes which displayed his significant height and broad shoulders. His golden hair was half tied in a single braid behind his head as all the Woodland soldiers and a silver circlet displayed his generous brow. His aquamarine eyes, glittering under his dark eyebrows, studied the room for a moment and then he headed towards the royal table which was placed above a few steps where normally the king’s throne would be.

 

Thranduil stood a step lower than the table and bowed to the king. Even when he bowed, he didn’t lose the regal style. He put one foot on the step, and bowed slightly with one shoulder leaning on his bent knee; very stylish, Elrond thought. This was definitely the son of a king.

 

 “My king…” he said in his deep-toned voice as he bowed. Then he turned to lord Elrond and put a hand on his chest with a smile. “My Lord…”

 

“I expected you would at least arrive on time for the feast as you missed greeting Lord Elrond this morning. But I was wrong to think you may be that thoughtful.” Oropher attacked unmercifully.

 

Thranduil’s face did not show any kind of expression though anyone would have known he wasn’t pleased to be disgraced in front of the royal table and the not very adored Lord Elrond.

 

“I was training for tomorrow’s contest your majesty. Surely our Lord would understand my enthusiasm and I am quite sure he would excuse my delay. Will you not my lord?” he suddenly looked at Elrond with pleading eyes and a mischievous smile.

 

 Elrond chuckled. “Of course your Grace…I have already told your lord father that I did not mind your absences nor did I mind your delay.” He said with a fatherly smile.

 

Thranduil gave him an appreciating smile and turned to his father. “You see my king, no harm is done!”

Thranduil wouldn’t have been surprised if Oropher would suddenly jump across the table and hit him in the face. But his father seemed calm. At least he looked calm. And Thranduil was relieved when he gestured for him to sit and he gladly sat himself in the safe place next to his mother as far away as he was allowed from the king.

 

Harma gave him a blaming look but she didn’t say anything. Oh he loved how understanding his mother was. She would never trigger him in the wrong place and the wrong time, which his father often did.

 

The mood at the table gradually turned lighter and jollier and soon everybody forgot about Thranduil’s late arrival. The young prince tried to listen to the intense conversation his parents were having with Elrond about the latest affairs of Middle-Earth but the talks wouldn’t interest him. He was a warrior not a diplomat. He couldn’t imagine wasting his life on stupid paperwork and stupid names of the kings and their stupid decisions and how their stupid decisions affected his land. He was born for the field and the field was where he would be and he would gladly leave diplomacy to his father. He turned his gaze to the guests that were dancing joyfully to the music. And there he saw her.

 

He knew her from the music classes they went together when they were much younger. But he hadn’t been that interested in her then. Thranduil remembered well that as he acknowledged himself as the best player of harp then, she had the most charming voice among them.

 

But she had become different from those times. She had grown into a very fine maiden indeed. The elleth stood among some lords and ladies of the court and they seemed deeply engaged in a very serious conversation; probably about the dull issues the elite always talked about.

 

Thranduil was breathless by her beauty. Her face shone like the sun and her blue eyes glittered in contrast with her dark hair.

 

Leuthil felt a gaze on her and she turned from the group to look around and her eyes met the piercing aquamarine of non-other than the handsome prince Thranduil. One could call him ‘ _beautiful’_ but ‘ _handsome’_ she saw him as she could not ignore his masculine features. She had known him as a classmate from a few years back. She still remembered how his smart hands worked on that beautiful harp of his and how he managed notes from those strings which no-one could. But she was never interested in him as a male. He was rude, impudent and arrogant; typically a spoiled son of a mighty king. She was also well aware of the prince’s reputation. Thranduil was well known for his profligate life. They said that he takes a different elleth to warm his bed every night. Some rumors even said that he even took males for his pleasure when the heat took him. He was also known to be very rebellious, hot tempered and often violent. All knew how Oropher often reproached and even punished him for his regular disobedience. But despite all these, the Ellyn loved him. Perhaps there were no females in these lands that wouldn’t crave his intimacy. But Leuthil considered herself different as she felt nothing for this prince.  She had developed a very nice relationship with Lenor, who was standing next to her, and she didn’t want to lose it. He was a very cultivated ellon, and it seemed that he cared for her enough. Yet she felt her heart sink as Thranduil’s penetrating gaze fell from her face to her body, studying her as if he could undress her with his eyes.

 

Oh her body…her white skin gleamed behind her dark blue garment, her breasts were slightly larger than most of the other Elven kind and her narrow waist was followed with generous wide hips. Thranduil didn’t have to touch her skin to know how soft it would feel, he wouldn’t have to smell those dark curls that hung to her waist to know the perfect odor of her hair.

 

Their eyes met. The girl was clearly surprised by his unexpected attention but she didn’t show any sign of being flattered by it. She simply looked at him in question for a few moments and then turned away and engaged in a conversation with an ellon next to her. Thranduil also knew this elf. He was Lenor, one of the few elves that had the king’s definite approval. He studied old literature and cultures in the king’s library. Thranduil smirked to that. He darted his gaze from the ellon to the elleth; she was a more pleasant sight to observe.

 

“Naneth…” he called as he turned to face the queen. “That lady over there, standing next to lord Lenor, is she Leuthil from my old music class? Wasn’t she out of Greenwood?”

 

Harma took a moment to look at whom her son was mentioning and then she smiled.

 

“Oh yes that’s Leuthil…she had gone to Lorien for some time along with his father. She returned a few weeks back. Now she is studying in the court with some other ladies. A very fine student I shall say…very sharp.”

 

 Then she looked at Thranduil who seemed not very interested in the studying qualities of the girl. “

She is Lord Alheru’s daughter, you know…so you better take your hands of her.” she said and then she chuckled at Thranduil’s wide eyes.

 

Thranduil automatically turned to the other corner of the hall in which Lord Alheru one of his father’s captains and close advisors was drinking wine with some friends. Thranduil knew him very well. He had been a junior soldier under Alheru’s command when he first joined the forces. Alheru was one of the few Silvans who enjoyed court affairs. He was the captain who discovered Thranduil’s talent in warfare, yet he was always very bad tempered and harsh. Thranduil still remembered the pain his heavy hands could cause and he shivered from the memory. He felt a very powerful urge to give up in the lord’s daughter immediately, but he pushed the thought away and focused back on Leuthil. He couldn’t help himself imagining her without those clothes. ‘Oh how sick I am’ he thought as he smiled to himself.

 

He rouse from his sit and went down the stairs. He could at least ask her for a dance. Feel her body against his through the music. He hadn’t gone a few steps towards her that a gentle hand stopped him.

“My Prince…”

He irritably turned, only to find Morey holding his elbow. She was beautiful as always and she had that slutish smile of hers.

“Would you care for a dance my prince…” she said seductively.

“I’m not in the mood Mori…and of course it’s not proper here…”

“From since you care about what is proper and what is not…?” she said with a smirk, winking with her green eyes.

“My father is here Mori…let go of my arm…please.”

She slowly obeyed as she noticed the gravity of Thranduil’s voice.

“You don’t care about what’s proper when you take me to your bed, your grace…” she whispered sarcastically. “Perhaps I can cheer that mood of yours with something other than silly dances.” She continued with a devilish wink.

 

“Not tonight Mori…I have some business to attend to…” he said as softly as he could and he released his arm from her grip. But when he turned Leuthil was gone. He felt his heart emptied. Why did he care so much anyway? He had lovely Morey to bed him tonight, and many other maidens for other nights. But he needed to see her. Her absence made him strangely restless.

 

He left Morey and stormed out of the hall. The corridors were deserted. It made him happy since his mood was over coming him and he had the potential of punching anyone in the face. He paced the long corridor. She couldn’t have gone too far…ah yes… there she was, standing alone gazing out of the great window that faced the forest; deeply in thought.

 

Thranduil’s heart began to beat rapidly, pumping feverish blood through his vessels. He went closer, but she seemed to have not noticed his presence. ‘She has become so different’ he thought. So fair, so beautiful and mysterious.

 

“Good evening my lady…” he said. She suddenly jumped and gasped as she was pulled out of her day dream.

 

“My prince…” she said breathlessly, as she put a hand on her chest. “Forgive me…I didn’t sense your presence.”

 

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you…” Thranduil said but he felt that she didn’t believe him. In fact Leuthil hadn’t believed him. She knew this prince and his foolish games with girls…why had he followed her here anyway?

 

Thranduil was breathless by her beauty…the color of her eyes, her dark hair, her angelic face…This was another kind of feeling, he hadn’t experience it with other Ellyn. How could he put his feelings into words as he was speechless like this?

 

“Is there anything I can help you with, your Grace?” she asked, when she felt that the prince was struggling to purge out his words.

 

“It’s a full moon tonight…yet how can I set my eyes on the moon when it turns dark and dead comparing to a sun like you…”  Thranduil said innocently.

 

Leuthil felt her heart sink. So she hadn’t made a mistake, Thranduil was indeed watching her from across the hall, and his gaze had been indeed mischievous. “My lord…I…”

 

“I was going to ask you for a dance but you left the feast…” Thranduil interrupted.

 

“Well perhaps it was for the best, as I did not want to upset you with my refusal…” she said, trying so hard to be courteous. Perhaps another elleth would’ve fallen under his spell, but not her.

 

Thranduil looked at her questionably. How could she refuse him…? And how dared she talk about it so openly. But it was her right anyway, he was just not used to hear no for an answer…

 

“Why…I mean…were you…” he cursed himself for running out of words again. It was so unlike him.

 

“I came to the feast with someone my lord…” she said.

 

Thranduil was silent for a few moments but then he croaked: “Lenor?”

 

She nodded. Again there was an awkward silence for a few moments as the prince dropped his head, gazing at the floor. It gave Leuthil such pleasure to see him defeated, but she didn’t know why.

 

“Does he have your heart…?” he asked openly.

 

“My lord…” Leuthil said irritated. “That’s personal”

 

Thranduil could feel burning flames rise inside him. The rage…the rage that he had inherited directly from his father; he could feel it take over him. He suddenly felt the intense need to go back to the feast and behead the stupid nerd. But he had to control himself…he had to cool down… it was her definite right to choose her partner and he had to respect it. But how could he…

 

“Do you love him my lady?” Thranduil asked again firmly.

 

Leuthil was startled. This was a stubborn royalty demanding an answer. But she acknowledged herself more stubborn. After all she was her father’s daughter.

 

“With all due respect my lord…my personal feelings are my own, and I have the right not to share them with you.”

 

Very brave indeed. Thranduil had never faced an elleth who rejected him, nor had he faced an elleth this bold and brave hearted. This called for a challenge, and he happened to loved challenges.

 

“You don’t love him…” he said matter-of-factly.

 

“Excuse me?”                                            

 

“Because if you had, you wouldn’t be here lingering all alone in these deserted corridors while you could enjoy a royal feast with your beloved one…”

 

“I needed a break…” She said heatedly, not knowing why she was justifying herself for Thranduil.    

 

“One never needs a break from someone she loves…”

 

Leuthil could feel the heat rise inside her. She was trying so hard not be impolite but this just wouldn’t do.

 

“My lord you are not exactly the sort of person to lecture me about love…you have thousands of lovers yet you are not even capable of loving a single one of them back.”

 

She immediately regretted what she had said, yet there was no way of taking it back. To her fear, Thranduil raised his dark eyebrows and his gaze became as sharp as daggers. She instinctively lowered her head and stared at the floor.

 

“Forgive me my lord…I…I didn’t.”

 

“Your words are harsh…and insulting” Thranduil said resolutely.

 

Leuthil looked back at him. He was serious, with no emotions written on his handsome face. He would probably punish her, even banish her…oh Valar…what had she done.

 

“Forgive me my lord; that was not my intention.”

 

Thranduil came closer, towering above her. It was only then that she realized how tall he had become during these years. He was like a young tree, tall, slender, yet muscular with broad shoulders. She could feel the radiation of his anger. Yet she couldn’t do anything, but wait to see what tragedy his rage would bring upon her.

 

Thranduil was fighting so hard to push back the heat that was taking over him. Although this elleth was too bold but she had said nothing but the truth…and he didn’t have the right to punish her for that. In fact he enjoyed her boldness. Boldness and truth were things rarely gifted to a prince or any other royalty.

 

Leuthil felt so fragile under his shadow. Never in her life had she felt weak in the presence of any male. But this arrogant prince was like a lion ready to tear everything apart.

 

“You’re wrong about me.…” Thranduil said finally. “I did not love anyone until tonight because they are not worthy of my love…I’ll compete with Lord Lenor for your heart…and I will gain it.” He continued determinedly.

 

He then took a few steps back and gave a slight bow. “I bid you a good night my lady…”

 

He didn’t wait for her to respond. The prince just turned around and left for the main hall.

***

Leuthil remained there breathless. She had to confess that she had expected a severe punishment for her not very nice words. Yet the prince had spared her. He was so arrogant. Who did he think he was? She knew she had to go back to Lenor but the conversation with Thranduil had been a bit overwhelming. She was unarmed in facing the mixture of feelings attacking her. Her old dislike for the prince was still there, she was also angry with him for his words and yet she couldn’t deny his charm. He was so beautiful, so radiant, and so adorable…his eyes, there was something in his eyes that made it so hard for her to look at them…

 

“Lady Leuthil…”

 

She turned to face Lenor who was standing beside her.

 

“So you finally decided to realize I wasn’t in the ball room with you…” Leuthil said teasingly.

 

Lenor blushed.

“Shall we go back to the hall….?” He said.

 

“I think I’ll pass…I’m tired…and I need to wake early tomorrow to go to the contest, I want to stand in the front row…I better go home.” She said politely.

 

Lenor nodded. “I’ll come with you tomorrow …when will you leave home?”

 

“I’ll leave at dawn…I’ll see you beside the public pool.” she said. “Good night Lenor…”

 

The ellon nodded as she turned and left the royal feast.

***

Thranduil paused a second behind the door before returning to the feast. He took a deep breath and entered the main hall again.

Almost everyone was drunk. The atmosphere at the high table was also jolly due to the perfect wine. Thranduil suddenly felt so tired for this. He needed to rest before the contest tomorrow. He had trained so hard today and he felt some irritating soreness in his arms. He suddenly regretted his decision to send Morey away. Perhaps if he could find her, she could guarantee a peaceful sleep for him tonight.

 

“My prince…”

 

It was Galdor who was approaching him fast. Thranduil turned annoyed. “Galdor have you seen Morey…”

 

“The king wants you at the high table.” Galdor interrupted ignoring the prince’s question. “He’s been asking for you for quite some time. You better come.”

 

Thranduil sighed and obeyed. “But find Morey for me!” he nagged as Galdor rolled his eyes.

 

The king and the queen were deeply engaged in a cheery conversation with Lord Elrond when Thranduil arrived. Oropher turned to him. “Where were you Thranduil…? I’ve been asking for you for a long time now.”

 

“Forgive me father…what can I do for you?” he said not trying to hide his tiredness.

 

Elrond turned to the young prince. “In fact I am the one who has to be blamed for summoning you lord Thranduil.”

 

When he saw Thranduil’s raised eyebrows he continued. “I’ve heard that you have smart hands on the harp and you have a wonderful voice…would you mind playing a piece for us?”

 

The last thing Thranduil had expected was this. To be lured here, to perform a piece of music for the high lords!!!

 

“Oh…I…I have to go fetch the harp then…” he said hoping to escape the task.

 

“It’s already here son; Galion brought it.” Oropher said while he smirked at his son’s helplessness.

 

Galdor handed him the small harp with a pitiful look. Thranduil hesitated but he had no other choice as eager eyes of Elrond and his companions were piercing him.

 

“Come here son…” Oropher said with an uncharacteristic tenderness. “Sit here…” he said tapping on a chair next to him. He always grew warm and gentle when the strong wine affected him.

 

So the prince sat on the chair. He took his time re-acquainting his fingers with the strings, producing scattered notes. He had been so engaged with his combat trainings that his fingers felt a bit numb on the fine instrument. He finally found his confidence, chose his song and started playing. His fingers danced along the strings, this time creating heavenly music with a talent unseen and unheard even by the elves of Imlardis. Thranduil Oropherion had strong hands which held heavy swords; the crafts of killing. Yet all that dark power always turned to an atypical gentleness when he held his harp and sang old songs of love, passion and tragedy. He did not see the wide eyes of the lords, nor did he see the surprised looks that Elrond exchanged with his steward; Glorfindel.

 

His song was short but affective. After he finished, it took some time for his audience to react as they were deeply touched.

 

“You are truly talented prince Thranduil…for once the gossips were true.” Glorfindel said and made the others laugh and nod in affirmation.

 

“Thank you my lord.” Thranduil said with a smile.

 

“Thank you for playing Thranduil. If I hadn’t heard your music, I would have left Greenwood a lesser man…” Elrond smiled at him.

 

 Thranduil gave him an appreciating smile. He always remembered his father detest the Noldor elves. But Thranduil somehow liked this Lord of Imlardis. He turned to the king.

 

“Father, I wish to retire with your permission…I need to rest before the contests tomorrow.” Thranduil asked with unusual courtesy.

 

Oropher nodded and smiled at him. Thranduil always wished that his father would always take a few more glasses of wine. 

 

He rose and then turned to Elrond. “I assume you will be attending the event tomorrow as my father’s special guests, my lord?”

 

“Of course…I’ll be there.” Elrond said. “May you be victorious.”

 

“I’ll be happy to see you there…I assume it will be a bit violent this year.” Thranduil teased.

 

“My lord with you and Lord Miklovand, both competing for the captain post; perhaps we should expect some deadly casualties, it’s a good thing lord Elrond is here.” Galdor said, and made everyone laugh.

Elrond chuckled but then he turned to Thranduil seriously. “We live in dark times prince Thranduil, and we have no choice but to fit our hands with swords and bows…yet do not let these dark times steal your talent away…you have a gift to lift the spirits with your music, don’t let it be forgotten because of the evil around us… To stay yourself in this world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest victory you can ever gain.”

 

Oropher shifted in his place as he clearly was not delighted with any Noldor lecture his son. But Thranduil felt those words sink in his heart.

 

“I shall remember your words my lord…” he said with a smile. Then he bowed for the lords and then the king. He kissed his mother’s hand and left the hall for his chambers.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“My prince wake up…it’s getting late…”

Galdor shook Thranduil’s shoulder until he was well awake. Thranduil expected to see Galion as always and he was surprised to see his friend in his room; waking him up.

“Galdor? What are you doing here?”

“I’ve sent Galion away, I’ll look to your dressing today…hurry up the contest will begin in an hour.” Galdor said as he harshly pushed away the blanket.

“Whooa…” Thranduil protested. “I’m naked.”

“That’s not something I haven’t seen before…” Galdor said as he rolled his eyes. “Get up…the bath is ready.”

Thranduil chuckled and got up. Galdor lost all his courtesy and formality with him when they were alone.

 

The prince took a fast bath and came out with a towel. Galion had readied his combat outfit from last night. He took the leggings and darted an annoyed glance at Galdor who didn’t at all feel that his gaze was making the prince uncomfortable. When the leggings were on Galdor dressed him as carefully as he could. The black tunic made him look taller. And the red fabric he wore around his waist made him more captivating. It wasn’t customary to wear armor in these kinds of martial contests. 

 

“You have chosen a fine color my prince…” Galdor said while he was fastening his sword with a leather band on his back.

 

“Just wait and see how my father would reproach me for not wearing the green uniform.” Thranduil said, then he posed a jest so strangely similar to the king and he copied his voice. “My son should not wear the color of the evil, shame on you.”

 

Galdor gave a bitter smile and started tending to Thranduil’s hair tying them in a single braid behind his head. His hair was soft in his hands, a magnificent gold. He glanced at him in the mirror. Thranduil, the prince he had known from childhood, was growing into a fine elf. He had become a fierce warrior, and if he could win the contest today he would become the captain of a legion of 150 soldiers. Galdor had been more like a brother to him all these years and it made him quite sad to see him become more independent every day, not needing him anymore. Perhaps he would even leave the capital for patrols if he would win the captain post. It made Galdor frown.

 

 

“What is it Galdor? What’s that frown for? Has my hair become dull?” Thranduil said anxiously while he gazed at Galdor in the mirror.

 

“No, it’s soft as always…” he said immediately, chuckling secretly at how Thranduil was over sensitive on his appearance. “…eat those fruits before you go…” he said pointing at the dish full of fruits, trying to distract the prince.

 

“Aiii, Galdor! You know I hate fruits for breakfast.” Thradnuil nagged with a frown.

“Yes and I also know that all you need to lose the game today is a heavy stomach full of royal breakfast.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes and took a piece of apple. “I can see this contest is giving you more tension than me.”

“That’s because I can foresee your mood if you are defeated…and I honestly wouldn’t want to tolerate that.” Galdor said with a smirk.

Thranduil frowned. He couldn’t even bear the _thought_ of losing. “I can’t lose to Miklovand!” he barked. “I won’t.”

***

The pitch was in an uproar. This contest always brought many to the capital, and this time there was even more reason for the people to be excited. The curious elves wanted to have a glimpse of the lord of Imlardis and his companions, specially the famous balrog slayer. The second reason of this year’s excitement was the prince’s attendance.

 

Leuthil had waited so long beside the pool but Lenor did not show up. She was worried at first but when she asked his friends they told her that he was _studying in the royal library_. Crazy book worm. Who would have the nerve to stay indoors and study history on the day of the yearly contest?

She had thought to go to him but then she had turned the idea down. The elf had not even cared to fulfill his promise of accompanying her. So she had gone for the game alone. She joined the crowd that was heading towards the pitch. She felt so angry, so irritated. He could at least send a message for her not to wait.

 

“My Lady…” someone called her before she reached the pitch. She turned and to her surprise she saw the prince.

 

He was wearing a black outfit with a crimson fabric on his waist. His swords were resting on his back and he had a huge bow in his hand. She couldn’t deny that he was in fact very mesmerizing in that predator outfit…very smart choice indeed.

She gave a slight bow and looked at him evenly. “My lord…”

He came a few steps closer. The scent of leather and new fabric reached her nostrils along with his masculine odor.

“Would you honor me by letting me carry your sign with me…” he asked politely.

 

She was startled for a few seconds. This was a courteous demand from a prince. How could she refuse, especially after what she had said to him last night? And she was so angry with Lenor, this could be a good revenge.   

 

“What if you lose my prince? Who would be responsible for my defeated sign?” She teased.

Thranduil gave her a devilish smile. “If I lose…I will give my blessing to your affair with Lenor and never disturb you again…”

She smirked. “I don’t believe you would hold on to that word.” Then she untied the red ribbon in her hair and gave it to him. Thranduil smiled.

“May you be victorious today my lord…” She said seriously.

“Now that I have you with me…” Thranduil said tying the ribbon to his bow. “I will be.”

***

The field was full of elves from every age. All Greenwood was there. The enthusiastic people had gathered around a fenced pitch. Everyone was trying to get closer to the railing to get a better view. On the northern side was the royal pavilion where the king and his company were sitting along with Lord Elrond and his men. The guards were more than usual to protect the king’s guests and the prince whose attendance had become the major subject of betting among the audience.

 

After long hours of waiting finally the horns were blown announcing the entrance of the soldiers. As usual an organized march was performed by the soldiers. Their different dressing showed how every individual was important and their ordered pace was a sign of how united they were for defending the Woodland realm.

 

The march ended and by the order of the judges the competing soldiers lined in their position. The judges were Lord Holgailion; the king’s troop commander, Lord Alheru; the chief trainer of the army, and Lord Daitrid; the king’s chief war strategist. Lord Alheru gave a brief speech on the history and the rules of the contest.

 

40 soldiers were competing for the captain position. These soldiers were picked form a group of 200. They’re commanding and leadership abilities were the values that had got them here. They would be divided into 20 pairs for knife throwing round. Only one would come up from each pair. Again the 20 would be divided into 10 pairs for archery contest and the five remaining would participate in a horse riding race that would kick out the weakest one. The four remaining would fight in pairs with swords while mounted on horses; the first one to fall off would be the loser. The two finalists would fight each other with empty hands until one of them would quit or get knocked out or even die. This last part was the main subject of the enthusiasm in the crowd as it had no rules and it usually became very brutal.

 

The pairs were chosen by tossing coins and the first round started. Each participant threw 3 knives at a target made of hay which resembled an orc’s figure. The closest throw to the heart would win. The first two games were smooth and easily judged. No throw went through the heart but they were close enough. Miklovand; Thranduil’s chief concern went in the third pair. His component threw his three knives first. The poor soldier had definitely been discouraged by being so unlucky to be paired with Miklovand in the first round and he ruined the shots as only one of them landed on the target. Miklovand took his knives with a smirk. He shoved his black hair back and threw them one after the other. Two landed on the left shoulder and one straight in the chest and he was rewarded by a great applause from the crowd. Two more pairs went on.

 

“The sixth pair” Lord Alheru announced loudly. “Lyndon Agmorion, and Prince Thranduil Oropherion”

 

The applause was even louder and there was the disturbing sound of the coins being exchanged between the hands. Thranduil felt his heart sink inside him as he entered the pitch. He stood face to face with Lyndon. They both put their hands on their chest in respect. Despite being forced to compete, they were good friends. A coin was tossed and Lyndon was chosen to go first. He took a few moments to concentrate. He threw the first; it landed on the stomach. He threw the second; it landed on the left shoulder. And then the third landed straight in the heart and he was rewarded by the enthusiastic cries from the crowd.

 

Thranduil’s heart was beating fast and the loud applause made him even more nervous. He took the knives form Lord Alheru. A deadly silence fell upon the field. He took his time to concentrate as he could feel his own heart beat. The knife suddenly felt so heavy in his hand.

Unlike Lyndon the prince threw the first two shots one after the other. The first landed on the left shoulder very close to Lyndon’s throw. The second landed right through the target’s groin.

 

The crowd burst into laughter. Elrond felt Oropher shift in his place and even in that far distance he could see Thranduil’s pointed ears grow red. The crowd kept laughing and Thranduil felt the heat rise inside him. He raised the third knife and threw it, sending all the rage into the blade. The knife landed straight in the heart. The crowd went silent for an instance and then there was huge applause.

 

“That calls for council…” Alheru announced and the judges gathered. After a few breathless moments Alheru nodded to the other two and turned to the crowd.

“The throws on the left shoulder and heart gain the same point for both components, yet as prince Thranduil’s second throw has landed on a more…deadly spot…the judges acknowledge him as the winner of the pair.” He announced and again the crowd burst out in laughter. But Thranduil didn’t care anymore. He had passed the first round and he was delighted.

 

Oropher smirked. “Even his targeting is influenced by sexual desires.” He whispered in the queen’s ear.

“He is _your_ son!” The queen giggled silently.

Soon it was the second round and the figured targets were replaced with round ones. It was best of the two shots and Miklovand went first this time with his new opponent. Both his arrows hit the target with little distance from the center. Thranduil couldn’t help but envy his confidence and calmness. Of course he didn’t have a king father to mock him. Miklovand’s opponent fired very good shots but it wasn’t enough to through Miklovand out of the game. There were nine pairs left.

 

Leuthil had been among the audience of this contest for many years now. But she had never felt this nervous. Her eyes darted on Thranduil who was standing on the side of the pitch waiting for his turn. Her eyes found her red ribbon on his bow and she smiled to herself. It seemed that with giving her sign to him she had connected herself to his feelings. It was as if she could feel his anxiety.

“Prince Thradnuil Oropherion and Arages Nomerion; come forth for this round please.” Leuthil jumped from his father’s voice.

 

Again the tossed coin showed that Thranduil had to be second. Arages was a fine archer with powerful hands. His arrows hit the target with symmetric very little space from the center. Leuthil could feel her heart in her throat. The space between the arrows was too little. She realized that the people around her were all whispering about the same thing. It was very dreadful that the prince would be kicked out so soon. And if he was kicked out Miklovand was left with no chief opponent. The only way to stop the fate was to hit an arrow straight in the target between the other two and the probability was too low for such a fantastic shot.

 

Thranduil stretched his arms. His hands were shaking slightly and his palms were slick with sweat. The silence was too much. It brought too much pressure on him. Suddenly the feather on the end of the arrow slipped from his slickly hand and the arrow was sent flying, only to hit the ground before the target. Everyone gasped and some laughed again and then they went silent again by the sign of the judges.

 The pressure was back duplicated. He took his time this time, putting the bow on the ground and drying his hands with his gown. Then he picked it up again and fixed the arrow. He teased the feathers while concentrating. He could smell the scent of her hair, rising from the ribbon that was now close to his face. He had to win, or he would be forced to keep his promise and let go of her. In a flash he raised the bow stretched his arms and fired. Countless heads darted from his bow to the target only to find the arrow resting in the center between the other two.

The roar of applause made Thranduil deaf. Arages tapped him on the shoulder. “I thought there was no space between them! What witchcraft did you weave my prince?” he said with a friendly yet sad smile.

 

The royal pavilion was also in an uproar.

“That was amazing…” Elrond said breathless. Then he turned to Oropher. “May I find a wife for your son in Rivendell and take him away with me…” he teased.

“If you take him, you will gain a fine archer and a lover for all the ladies of Rivendell…that’s a beneficial trade I would say.” Oropher said in such a serious tone that made Elrond chuckle.

 

Horses were brought to the field as fast as possible. Galdor held Thranduil’s huge raven black stallion; Mursul.

The five mounted and the crowd gradually stepped back to give them more space. A line was drawn on the ground and soon the race began. Thranduil and Miklovand crossed the line side by side, and then was Mergan and Holus. Kelon never reached the line as his horse fell in the middle of the way because of a loose shoe. Guards ran to pick him up and guide them out of the pitch.

 

The speed of the contest was overwhelming. Miklovand wasfast  paired with Mergan and Holus with Thranduil. They dismounted to take a break. Galdor ran to Thranduil and gave him a skin of cool water; others were tended by their fathers or even brothers who were mostly officers in the army. Thranduil’s eyes darted on the king and he found him looking at him. He just nodded at his young prince.

 

“I think you can take it as _“You are doing fine my boy!!!”_ ” Galdor teased him when he saw the king’s action.

Thranduil smirked. Miklovand and Mergan had already started the fight. At first there was only the sound of swords cutting the air but then they started hitting each other producing loud cracks. They were both equal fighters. All the abilities were the same. They both had excellent harmony with the horse and they both were fantastic swordsmen. The fight went on for a long time. And the hands of the fighters were getting tired but it seemed that this equal battle could last for hours with no winner. But then suddenly Miklovand swung his sword and the edge of the blade slashed the knee of the Mergan’s horse.

 The entire crowd gasped loud as blood splashed while the poor creature fell into the ground along with Mergan. Guards ran to pull him out from under the animal. Elves did not like seeing any creature get hurt so although Miklovand was the definite winner of the round, one could not miss the disgusted looks the people threw upon him. But Thranduil knew Miklovand well. He would get his goal no matter who he would hurt in the way.

 

When the injured horse was cleared away, Thranduil mounted and rode to the middle to face Holus. He could feel that his arms were slightly weaker than Holus. But Holus didn’t have the Thranduil’s control on his horse. Thranduil knew Holus as one of the smartest soldiers. And he knew that Holus would attack to destroy his powerful spot; and that powerful spot was his fantastic harmony with Mursul. But it happened too soon. The round hadn’t passed a few seconds that with a swing of his sword, Holus suddenly cut the leather band that had attached Thranduil’s saddle to his horse. The prince suddenly felt the saddle stir under him as the horse shifted rapidly to escape the sword of his opponent. In a moment all were sure that the prince would experience a very hard fall from the super huge animal and all those who had betted on him thought themselves lost. But they didn’t know how shrewd Oropher’s son was and they truly underestimated his physical abilities.

As the saddle slipped under him, Thranduil could only clench to the horse’s neck as he tripped off the monster with a hard force while the horse moved rapidly to the right. But he held on to his mount and his body circled around its neck on the opposite direction by the force of the horses swift movement and before Holus could react or even think Thranduil’s feet hit him hard on the face making him fall hard from his own horse.

As Thranduil landed on his two feet the cheers from the crowd rose again. Even some elven lords stood up for him in the royal pavilion.

“He is your rightful son…” Harma told Oropher with a mischievous smile. “He never accepts defeat just like you…”

Oropher smiled at her as he pressed her hand.

 

“You’re amazing…” Galdor shouted as he ran to take away Mursul. Then he handed him the skin of water. “Be careful, Miklovand is on the edge…he might easily kill you.”

 

There was no need for that warning as Thranduil could see how Miklovand’s veins were red and out in his neck. The two finalists were making themselves ready for the most savage round. And as lord Holgailion signaled, their entered the pitch again and bowed to each other. Holgailion explained that this round had no rules; fight to death, punch, scratch, bite… until one is down.

 

The horns were blown again and the fight started. At first the two young elves just circled one another; looking at each other in the eye as if their pupils could change into daggers and kill the other; aquamarine into grey. The field had gone silent again as the audience watched intensely.

Miklovand was the first to attack and it suited his aggressive nature. He raised his leg to hit Thranduil in the face but the prince was too fast for him as he lowered his head and missed the kick. Thranduil also found a second in which Miklovand’s foot touched the ground and his guard was lowered. He threw his punch to hit Miklovand straight on the cheek.

Miklovand tripped a few steps back and Thranduil used the moment again. He pace their distance, jumped up and hit the fellow again on his face with a hard kick of his long leg. Miklovand tripped again and fell.

The people applaud for the perfect hit. Miklovand took his time to rise as Holgailion signaled for Thranduil not to attack. Miklovand got up and gave in to the rage that had gotten over him and he attacked Thranduil like a wild animal pushing him to the ground with a loud growl.

 As the prince couldn’t foresee this, he was caught off guard and he couldn’t help being pushed down by Miklovand who was significantly heavier than him. Miklovand took the opportunity and sat himself on Thranduil’s stomach and rained him with punches on the face and chest.

The crowd gasped and some cheered in excitement when blood splashed from the prince’s face. Leuthil felt her stomach shrink. Miklovand was being too violent and Thranduil probably wouldn’t be able to get up after those direct hits on the face. In fact Thranduil’s mind wasn’t responding for a few seconds as his face was being hit several continues times.

His lungs were emptied from air as the dastard was also hitting him hard on the chest. If only Miklovand would give him just a second to breath perhaps he could think. Fortunately when his mind did respond, it worked fast. He suddenly remembered that he could put his hands into good use and Miklovand’s next punch was stopped by the prince as he caught his fists in both hands.

Miklovand was heavier and stronger and he also had the advantage of being on top of him and Thranduil knew he couldn’t bare his weigh much long. Miklovand was pushing downwards on his fists, leaning down on Thranduil and when he was close enough the prince raised his head swiftly and bit him hard on his cheek like a wild animal, cutting through his flesh. Miklovand gave out a loud cry and rolled off him.

At first the crowed didn’t understand the reason of this sudden change of events but when they saw Miklovand’s scared cheek and Thranduil spitting out blood they were all in awe.

Oh he’s such an animal…Leuthil smiled to herself. She was happy deep inside.

 

 Miklovand gathered himself fast but it gave Thranduil enough time to rise to his feet, just to be attacked again by a wilder Miklovand. This time he reacted faster and their arms were tied together while each wanted to throw the other to the ground. Their tied arms stirred a bit and again Miklovand cried out in agony as Thranduil press on his elbow on an unusual angle. He knew if he would press a little more Miklovand’s arm would definitely break. But he only wanted to cause Miklovand enough pain for him to resign from the game; he didn’t have the heart to break his arm. And this mercy resulted badly as the pain only made Miklovand pushier and he suddenly punched Thranduil in the face as hard as he could.

The prince had been hit too many times in the face in the last minuets and this last one broke him down. Their arms were released as Thranduil stumbled a few steps back, lost balance and then he collapsed on the ground as the dizziness took over him.

The sounds and the pictures went blurry. But then he felt a rough hand opening his eyelids. He heard Holgailion’s familiar voice counting him off.

 

“One” “Two”

The pictures of the last days were moving in front of him.

“Three”

The soldiers training for the contest. His father standing in his study, asking him to accompany him in greeting Elrond. He had felt so dull.

“Four”

His father pulling him out of the bed in which he was resting in with naked Morey and another elleth he didn’t even know her name. The childish giggles of the maidens echoed in his head.

 “Five”

_You are a shame as a son…it seems that Valar has placed your brain in your groin…_ Oropher had spat the words out as he slapped him hard on the face.

 “Six”

Leuthil’s face among the crowd. Her pale skin glooming in the night.

 

Elrond felt Oropher shift nervously and Harma stood up to get a better view; her eyes filled with concern. “Get up” Oropher barked more to himself… “Get up son”

 

“Seven”

_Get up_ …Oropher’s voice had echoed in his ears as he had lost balance by the force of the king’s smack... _Get up…GET UP!_

 “Eight”

Thranduil’s eyes flashed open. And with all the force left in his body he rolled on his abdomen.

“Nine”

He gathered himself and despite all the lightheadedness he managed to rise before “ _Ten_ ”.

 

The cheers were loud. Miklovand was frustrated; he had never imagined that Thranduil would get up after the deadly hit. Thranduil slowly gained back his balance and looked at him with focused eyes. This was taking too long, he had tolerated this little pest too much and he could feel his famous rage rise up inside him.

Elrond didn’t miss the proud smile on Oropher’s lips. but as soon as it had appeared it had faded, leaving a stern face behind.

 

The fight started again. Miklovand attacked again this time aiming to finish Thranduil but as fast as a thunderstorm Thranduil raised his long leg and kicked him hard on the chest.

Miklovand was thrown back with an uncharacteristic force and he landed on his back unable to breath. Holgailion ran to him and started to count again.

 

Thranduil couldn’t believe how fast he had acted as he couldn’t have imagined his own uncontrollable force when he was angry. His eyes searched in the crowd and he soon found what he wanted.

 Leuthil was watching him with a smile. Oh she was so beautiful. He would fight Miklovand to eternity for that smile.

“Ten”

Thranduil suddenly looked back and realized Miklovand was still lying on the ground. He couldn’t help the smile that shaped on his lips.  A guard ran to the king’s foster son to help him up and out as Holgailion rose and took Thranduil’s fist and raised it; announcing him as the winner.

The crowd was in an uproar. In the royal pavilion the elf lords rose in respect. Thranduil searched for his father. The king’s face was stern as always, yet there was something different. For the first time he was looking at him proudly. Thranduil smiled to that.

***

“AAAAH…easy on that…it hurts”

“I’m sorry my prince…I need to clean the cuts or they get infected.” The healer said.

Thranduil shifted on the bed he was sitting and continued complaining with occasional groans. Galdor chuckled at his miserable sight.

“He has heavy hands…that foster brother of yours.” He teased.

“Brainless pest!” Thranduil spat the words.

“There. It’s done my lord.” The healer said.

Thranduil sighed in relief and stood. “I have to go see Miklovand…” he said seriously.

Galdor raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Am I observing some compassion in you for him!?”

“Of course not. If he’s dead, I want to be the first one to bring the good news to the king.” Thranduil said simply and went out of the tent.

 

A little distance further there was another medical tent. He shoved away the entrance and entered. Miklovand was sitting on a bed. A maiden healer had put her head on his bare chest, listening to his heart and Miklovand was secretly smiling at that. Thranduil smirked at the scene sarcastically.

“My prince” the healer jumped and bowed clumsily.

“I see my _brother_ is well…”

“Yes my lord…the lord’s breathing is normal and no harm is done” she smiled sweetly. Then she bowed and left to take care of the others.

Miklovand grabbed his shirt and put it on. “I do not assume you are here to check on me…!” he asked.

“Acctualy I _am_ here to check on you.”  Thranduil answered. “I wanted to see if you’re dead, but then I realized, I am not _that_ lucky!” he said honestly.

Miklovand gave him a disgusting smirk. “You won today, yet you’ll never get rid of me…”

“Yes I know that...” Thranduil said looking at him as if looking at a huge, ugly spider. “You were quite enjoying the healer’s intimacy.” Thranduil said disgusted. “How sick are you!? The elleth was trying to help you.”

“That lecture is coming from someone who sleeps with every creature on the face of Arda, and doesn’t even care if they’re males or females!”

“Well I’m a passionate person!” Thranduil said proudly. “But tell me _brother;_ has any maiden ever left your bed satisfied?”

Miklovand jumped to his feet, fuming. “Mind what you’re saying Thranduil!”

“Or perhaps they never come to share your bed, maybe that’s why your punches are this intense…all your sexual anger is loaded in them.” Thranduil chuckled.

“Thranduil if you won’t shut up, I will punch you again and break that pretty nose of yours…” Miklovand barked.

“Whoa…mind your words Miklovand, the crown prince is standing before you!” Thranduil said in a threatening tone, suddenly sounding very serious. 

“heh…do anything you want _crown prince_! The king would always favor me, not you. Even if you win a thousand more contests.” He said back harshly, knowing he was going to far.

Miklovand saw a vein in Thranduil’s neck jerk out and he blushed. Yes…this was his sensitive spot indeed. But the prince got hold on his feelings fast and managed a fake smile.

“Well” Thranduil clapped his hands. “I better go tell the king that his beloved pest is fine…”

 

Miklovand glared at him but said nothing as he didn’t dare to take him on edge any more. Thranduil turned and left the tent and Miklovand collapsed on the bed. No matter how much Oropher treated him like his own son, Thranduil would never consider him as his brother, nor would Miklovand consider him as a kin. The truth was that they were not. In fact Oropher often treated him much better than how he treated Thranduil; after all he was the obedient one, he was the nice one and he was the one who deserved the better reward. Thranduil had often called him the king’s dog, but he would never gain Thranduil’s place in the king’s eye even though he had every quality the king wished to see in Thranduil. Despite the terrible relationship the father and son had and the kindness the king showed him, Miklovand knew that he would never be the king’s true son. He was after all, the baby found under the trees; a half elf left by his parents. The king had taken care of him like his own son, but even king Oropher couldn’t change who he was and he couldn’t change the hatred between Thranduil and his foster son.

 

When Thranduil came out of the tent he took a deep breath to calm down. The disappointment he was as a son had been always the vein Miklovand tapped when he wanted to make him angry. The pest knew well that in his anger he did stupid things and these stupid things would cause reproach from the king, and that was exactly what the pest wanted. He saw an elleth running towards him. When she came closer he recognized her and smiled. She was the coolest water that could be poured on his fire.

 

“Aleth…” he smiled as the cheerful girl jumped and hugged him. “My dearest sister” he rained her with kisses on her hair.

“I knew you would win…” she said excitedly after they broke. “I won a golden coin from Megilen, betting on you…” she said showing him the golden coin proudly.

“Who’s Megilen?!” Thranduil asked raising dark eyebrows.

“A friend…” she said immediately and Thranduil felt her arms tensed around his neck.

“A friend?!” he said raising his eyebrows even higher.

She rolled her eyes at his brotherly protectiveness. “Oh brother, he’s just my classmate in the music classes…nothing more.”

The idea of _an elf having a crush on an elleth in the music class_ made Thranduil even more alert.

“Well he better stay _only a classmate_ because I don’t like the idea of him getting close to you nor do I enjoy his betting abilities.” He said seriously.

“Oh you prejudiced prince, you don’t even know him!” she hugged and kissed him on the cheek again. “Although you are a senseless overprotective brother, I love you, and I guess I have to call you captain of the royal guard from now on…” she said giggling. Then her eyes darted on someone behind Thranduil.

“Oh hello Leuthil…”

Thradnuil jerked around to face her and he struggled not to sigh from her beauty. She curtsied to the royalties. The fineness of her moves took his breath away.

 

“My Lady” she said to Aleth; and then he turned to Thranduil. “Your grace”

Thranduil caught how she avoided his eyes.

Aleth looked at Thranduil. “You know each other, my prince?”

“Yes” Thranduil chuckled. “We used to go to music class together a few years back.” He said with a smile.

“Oh…” Aleth giggled. “Well Leuthil and I have been friends since we were elflings.”

“Oh really?” Thranduil said irritated. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner Aleth?”

Leuthil smiled at that. Although she was older than the princess, they had been in a lot of court classes together and they had also been friends from childhood.

 “Well now that we are all acquainted, perhaps we can go for a picnic in the afternoon.” Thranduil said mischievously.

“My lord…I…” Leuthil stumbled but she was interrupted by a very excited princess.

 “That’s great, Perhaps Galdor could also come and tell us those funny tales of his and we can have some music and we can celebrate your victory… I’ll go to the kitchen to order preparations…” she gave Leuthil a giggle and Thranduil a teasing curtsey, and then she ran off, disappearing in the crowd.

Thradnuil chuckled at Leuthil’s desperate looked as she turned to him irritated. “My lord…I really don’t think I should…”

“Why not?” He said, still chuckling. “We were once friends, classmates, what harm would it do to go on an innocent little picnic?”

“My lord that was a long time ago…and we were never friends!” she reminded him.

“Oh please…” he said waving his hand. “Who is your friend?! Lenor? Well I don’t see him around you...”

“Please…do not judge him, you don’t know him…” she said harshly.

“I’m not judging.” He said seriously. “But you don’t know me either…”

She just looked at him wordless. So he continued. “I would never leave you alone, like he does so frequently.”

“He had important things to do…” she said immediately, cursing Lenor secretly.

“What is there in the world more important than you?!” Thranduil said firmly.

She was wordless again as her heart sank. This elf…this impudent, insolent, spoiled prince…was getting under her skin and she hated her own weakness. She just lowered her head and gazed at the ground. His eyes were too radiant…too piercing. It was as if he could see her soul and reach out to her deepest thoughts.

“Were you here to tell me something my lady?!” He said after a few moments of silence.

“Yes” Leuthil said, happy from the change in the subject. “I wanted to congratulate you for your victory my prince…”

Thranduil gave her a broad smile as if suddenly realizing he had won the captain post…

“Thank you my lady … and thank you for the honor of your sign.” He finally said. “But if you think I’m going to return it to you, you’re wrong.” He teased. “It looks pretty nice on my bow…and I enjoy the scent of it.”

Then he chuckled again at her blushing cheeks.

“My prince…”

Thranduil rolled his eyes by hearing Galdors voice. Although there were a lot of things Thranduil loved about Galdor he just couldn’t get used to his bad timing.

Galdor came closer and nodded at Leuthil as he gave Thranduil a meaningful look.

“Yes Galdor, what is it?!” Thranduil asked impatiently.

“You won my prince yet you are not done. You need to go to the king, and pay your respects…there is an oath you need to take and a hundred other ceremonious things you have to go through…come now…hurry.” Galdor said anxiously.

“Well, I better go too…” Leuthil said uneasily. “I’m going to get to know the prince of the Woodland realm, I better be prepared…” she teased.

Thranduil chuckled as Galdor raised his eyebrows. She curtsied and went a few steps and then turned around. “My prince, you’d better wash yourself before you go to the king…you’re all blood soaked and sweaty and …too dirty.” She giggled at his sheepish smile and left.

“She’s right…” Galdor said after she was out of sight. “You _are_ dirty!”

Then he turned completely to Thranduil and regarded him expectantly.

“What?!”

“You’re getting under her skin!” Galdor said matter-of-factly.

“Of course!” Thranduil said confidently. “I will have her eventually…”

“Thranduil! She is the daughter of lord Alheru…” Galdor said in a warning tone. “She is the daughter of _that_ lord; she won’t fall for your temptations…and even if she does, if Alheru finds you’re flirting with his daughter, he will cut your head off and present it to your father in a dish as a royal supper!”

“I don’t think the king would mind eating my head as a royal supper!” Thranduil chuckled which made Galdor even more worried.

“Thranduil!” he said and shook his shoulders with force as if it would bring back the lost sense to him. “This is not a game…Take your paws off her; she’s not a one-night girl you take for your pleasure…”

“This is different…” Thranduil said gravely, pushing Galdor’s hands off himself as if being insulted. “I’m not playing…I truly like her…”

Then he turned from him and left.

“Oh Valar; save me!” Galdor sighed to himself.

***

“ I; Thranduil Oropherion; Crown prince of Greenwood the Great, do hereby swear on my nobility and honor, that I will ever be loyal to my king, and faithful to the land that has nurtured me. I swear on my dignity that as the prince and captain of the royal legion, I will serve my king and my beloved land until death takes me or until the end of all things.”

“Kneel Thranduil Oropherion” Holgailion’s voice echoed in the throne room.

Thranduil obeyed and when his knee touched the cold stone before the king he heard the majesty rise from his throne. And then he felt the cold blade through the thin fabric on his right shoulder.

“May the Valar lighten your way…” The king said firmly as he removed the blade to put it on his left shoulder.

“And may you provide your land with valuable service…”

Thranduil felt the blade removed. His knee was getting numb on the uncomfortable position and he was very glad when he once again heard Holgailion’s voice.

“You may raise captain Thranduil…”

He obeyed. The king was still standing a step higher in front of him. When he lifted his head their eyes met. As always Thranduil couldn’t read anything from the king’s face. No pride, no compassion…nothing. Perhaps the proud look that he had caught on Oropher’s face in the royal pavilion earlier had merely been a dream…a wish.

Holgailion handed a folded green fabric to the king. Thranduil knew it was a folded flag of Greenwood.

“This, my prince…” The king regarded him again. “is the flag of our beloved land. Being the holder of it brings you great honor and great responsibility.”

He then handed him the fabric and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Thranduil nodded and smiled at that.

The ceremony was done and gradually everyone parted. Thranduil was relieved. Yet he did not know if he was in fact dismissed as the king was still standing beside him.

“My king may I…”

“Did you visit Miklovand after the game…?” Oropher interrupted.

Thranduil looked away and sighed.

“You didn’t.” Oropher smirked bitterly. “I should’ve known…”

“I did father.” Thranduil said frustrated. “I went to his tent and he was fine.”

Oropher raised his eyebrows. “How come you suddenly became so thoughtful? You didn’t mock him for his defeat did you?”

Thranduil smirked but did not answer. He was a fool to think Oropher would feel sorry for judging him so harshly. He had in fact mocked the pest, but the main reason to visit him was indeed to make sure he’s fine. Despite their hatred, he really didn’t have the heart to hurt Miklovand or any of his own kin for that matter.

“You know what did he tell me…?” Thranduil said fixing his piercing, disappointed eyes on Oropher again. “He told me no matter what I do, I would never gain your trust and that he would always remain your favored one…Guess he wasn’t wrong after all”

“Thranduil…” Oropher murmured but the prince interrupted him. “You know what breaks my heart…?” he said in a lower tone. “The fact that you don’t realize that your blood runs in _my_ veins, not him…”

Oropher did not answer. He just looked at him calmly. This cool surface, these emotionless grey eyes that often regarded him with such harsh disappointment was the main trigger that sent Thranduil on edge most of the time.

“May I retire my lord?” he finally asked. 

“There is something else you have to talk about with your mother. A portrait of you has to be painted and restored in the portrait room. Your mother will take care of it.” Oropher said coldly as if it was a stupid business.

Thranduil smirked at that. “I thought that room was reserved for the honorable members of the court.”

“That room is reserved for the members of the _family_.” Oropher corrected firmly. “But it can wait until your pretty looks return…you look more like an orc with these bruises on your face.”

“I’ll talk to the queen, my lord.” Thranduil said looking away again.

“Then you may retire…” Oropher said turning away from him.

Thranduil gave the king a bow and left the throne room with long paces.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

A cool breeze caressed Thranduil’s face as he walked out of the palace gates. He loved coming out on the spring afternoons, especially when he had had a bath after a victorious day.

Aleth was at the foot of the stairs in her royal green tunic and leggings, chatting with Leuthil. Thranduil struggled not to give out a sigh from her sight. Why had he been so blind all these years? Why hadn’t he noticed this perfection sooner? She was wearing a dark blue tunic with tight leggings displaying her long slender legs and narrow waist. Her hair was tied at the back of her head revealing her angelic pale face. Yes…she was an angel sent to him by the Valar.

 

“Ladies” he greeted them casually as he reached them. Leuthil gave him a slight curtsey.

“Oh please my lady, leave the courtesy for special occasions.” He said annoyed. Leuthil smiled at him. Thranduil knew he had seen a flash of surprise in her eyes but she hid it fast. In fact Leuthil was surprised by how casual this prince was.

“You’re late brother…” Aleth said.

“A prince is never late sister…” Thranduil said with raised eyebrows. “You ladies are simply too early!”

His seriousness made both of the girls giggle. There were two guards approaching them and they happened to be Galdor and another palace guard each bringing two horses with them; Thranduil’s black stallion significantly larger than the others.

They came to a halt before them and Thranduil dismissed the guard. He fixed their food packs on the saddles with Galdor. Then he turned and gave Leuthil a doubtful look.

“Aiii…I forgot…perhaps you should ride with me my lady…” he said mischievously. “You might fall and hurt yourself if you don’t know how to ride these beasts.”

“I know how to ride my prince.” She said with a devilish grin. “In fact I know it very well.”

“Is that so?!” Thranduil raised his eyebrows. “I don’t believe you…ride with me…I don’t want to see you hurt because of your stubbornness.”

Leuthil sighed and in a blink of an eye she held the saddle and hopped up skillfully on one of the horses. Aleth giggled at Thranduil’s open mouth.

“I always told you, you underestimate the Ellyn.” Galdor said tapping him on the shoulder.

“Guess you were right.” Thranduil chuckled as he settled himself on the saddle. Aleth and Galdor also mounted. And the four rode side by side into the woods.

“Let’s go to the lake…” Aleth suggested. And Thranduil nodded.

“That’s a good distance from here…” Leuthil said thoughtfully. “Race with me to the lake my prince…” she challenged.

Galdor coughed in surprise and Thranduil tried so hard to hide his astonishment.

“Please my lady, what would I answer lord Alheru if something happened to you…?” Thranduil said desperately. “He would execute me in the palace garden and leave my body to the wolves.”

Aleth and Galdor laughed out load.

“Oh my prince…you’re scared of being defeated by an elleth. Don’t hide it!” Leuthil smirked.

The expression on Thranduil’s face suddenly changed dramatically.

“Very well” he said determinedly. “What shall we race on?! Name you prize.”

Leuthil thought for a second. Oh how beautiful her frown was…

“The looser will be pushed into the lake…” She finally said.

It was spring and they all knew how cold the water would be and the thought of it made Thranduil shiver. Galdor and Aleth were making enthusiastic sounds.

“I’ll bet on Leuthil.” Aleth cried. “I bet on you my prince…as always” Galdor winked.

“Very well, to the lake then…” Thranduil said. And they kicked their horses.

 It seemed that even the horses understood the intensity of the situation as they sped at their highest ability while trying not to hit the trees. The old trees were the main object that made slowed them down, determining who would fall behind. Thranduil was in an awe how the elleth jumped her horse across the roots and how skillfully she rode on the horse she was mounted on for the first time. They were close to the lake. Leuthil charged her horse and she gradually passed Thranduil.

He couldn’t lose. Especially to her. Then a devilish thought came to his mind. He leaded Mursul to the right and stretched his hand. And he slightly caressed Leuthil’s waist from behind. The touch was just a second but enough to distract Leuthil and enough for him to reach the lake just a second sooner.

 

“You cheated!” She said angrily, dismounting.

“Oh don’t you insult me.” Thranduil dismounted too, chuckling. “There was no rule banning us from touching.”

“That’s not fare.” She said annoyed.

“Oh it’s not my fault that you respond so well to my touch.” Thranduil said seductively and he was rewarded by her beautiful heated face.

“Alright, don’t waste time.” He said as he knew Galdor and Aleth would reach there in minutes. “Take of your clothes.”

Leuthil’s eyes widened.

“What?!” Thranduil said innocently. “I wouldn’t push you in the water with all those clothes…I’m not _that_ cruel.”

Leuthil just stood there startled. Thranduil went closer.

“Alright I’ll show mercy…just take of the tunic and the shoes…”

Leuthil couldn’t believe it. Thranduil was excited like a little elfling. She cursed herself for starting this game. She should’ve known Thranduil would win anyway, but she wasn’t the type to beg him for mercy. She groaned and took of her shoes. Then she turned her back on him and took the tunic of. Luckily she was wearing a silky shirt under it. She folded the tunic and took her time putting it on a rock regretfully.

Thranduil’s hand suddenly grabbed her from the waist and picked her up from the ground. She screamed and struggled in his powerful hands. And she could hear him laugh out loud as he carried her like a naughty elfling to the lake. He held her above the water for several seconds while she screamed and struggled in his hands and then...SPLASH!!!!

 

Galdor and Aleth could hear Leuthil’s screams and Thranduil’s laughter from afar.

“I guess your lord brother won, my lady.” Galdor said with a chuckle.

“Name your prize Galdor!” she said with a sigh. “You won…”

Galdor looked at her for a few seconds. Something strange glittering in his dark eyes. He stretched his hand and handed a little piece of parchment to her. She frowned and took it doubtfully.

“Just read and answer my letter…” Galdor said, lowering his gaze. “That’s all”

“Very well” she said smiling. “I can do that!”

 

A little further Leuthil and Thranduil were both breathless, one from the cold water and the other from extreme laughter. Thranduil couldn’t even help her as he was laughing so hard. 

Leuthil swam to the bank and Thranduil took her hand and pulled her out. Her shirt was wet and displayed her body and her perfect breasts. But despite his inner desire Thranduil lowered his gaze and handed her the tunic. He would see that perfect body someday soon.

“Turn around…” she hissed from cold. Not having the slightest hope that he would. But he did. He looked away as she took off the shirt and wore her tunic again. When he thought it was safe he turned. She was squeezing her soaked hair to get some water out of it.

“Oh come here you pathetic loser.” He said tenderly as he took out a towel from his pack.

“Why do you have a towel in your pack?!” she said surprised.

“Someone usually ends up in the lake every time we come here.” He chuckled as he guided her to sit on a rock in front of him. She was hesitant.

“My lord…I…I can dry my own hair…”

“Oh sit down.” He said annoyed. “I’ve wronged you…let me make it up to you…”

 she sat uncomfortably as Thranduil took her hair into the towel. She thought why Galdor and Aleth were taking so long. But the thought was fast forgotten as Thranduil began drying her hair, tenderly tending to it. His touch was…kind, gentle and comforting…and very masculine. She gradually relaxed and let him do what he was doing. She could feel all the powered restored in his hands and she could imagine what those hands could do to an enemy and what they could do to a cherished maiden of his. So sweet, so wild…

 

Her hair felt soft in his hands. Although this elleth was a lioness but she looked so fair, so fragile. He was so afraid of hurting her; he had to be careful not to pull that dark hair as he couldn’t bear if he caused her the slightest pain. Her hair was so dark, so soft…so wildly beautiful when it got wet.     

“Alright…I think it’s as dry as you could get it my lord…” she said and rose as she heard horses approaching.

“Thranduil.” He whispered. “Call me Thranduil…”

Galdor and Aleth dismounted.

“You lost!” Aleth said demonstrating a bitter frown at Leuthil.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows at Galdor. He seemed in another world but he gathered himself fast.

“Well I bet on the ever victorious, may lady…” he said smiling.

“I’m starving” Thranduil said rolling his eyes. “Let’s eat.”

Leuthil didn’t miss the shy smile on Galdor’s face nor did she miss Aleth blush. But she engaged herself with unpacking the food.

In a few minutes they arranged a fire and they were all silent in eating delicious sandwiches.

“Thranduil…” Aleth called with a full mouth, very distant from courtly manners she usually kept. “Why do you and Miklovand hate each other so much? I remember this hatred from since I can recall.”

“Oh please sister…I lost my appetite?”  Thranduil said annoyed, dropping his sandwich to his lap in a show of disgust.

“I would want to hear!” Leuthil said enthusiastically. “You hit each other so unmercifully one would never think you two are brothers.”

“Well we are not!” Thranduil said insulted.

“You’ve grown together…haven’t you?” Leuthil said.

“We were _forced_ to grow up together…that’s all”

“I think you’re jealous of Miklovand…” Aleth said casually.

 Leuthil caught the anger in Thranduil’s eyes but his voice was steady and gentle when he spoke.

“Why should I be jealous of that _pest_?”

“Well because he gets all the praise and attention from adar and you always get the scolding and reproach.”

Thranduil sighed. “The king approves him more…that’s true.”

“Not that it is my business but that is not enough reason for such hatred…” Leuthil said. “If he is approved there is definitely a reason for it”

Galdor exchanged a meaningful look with Thranduil.

“I never saw anything bad from Miklovand either.” Aleth agreed. “Father likes him because he’s a good lad for him and you are not Thranduil…”

“If someone looks nice doesn’t mean that he’s a good person.” Thranduil said looking at Leuthil. Then he turned to Aleth. “And if father likes him it doesn’t mean that he truly deserves it.”

Leuthil was sharp enough to quickly understand that there is a story hidden behind his words but Aleth pushed forward. “Still, I think you’re jealous of him being so close to the king.”

“Oh for pities sake Aleth, if the pest is still in the court that’s because I never opened my mouth to tell the king what things he has done...”

“Oh come on, drop the subject you two…” Galdor said, trying to save Thranduil. “Lady Aleth there are beautiful plants down there for making dyes. Would you like me to take you there to pick some for your lady mother?”

Aleth smiled. “Sure, she’ll be happy.”

They rose and went down a huge rock a little distance from the lake talking.

 

Leuthil looked at Thranduil. He had suddenly gone deep in thought. His face bitter and his frown deep. He was beautiful. His golden hair was still wet from the bath he had taken earlier. His face pale with deep eyes that held too many unspoken emotions. And despite of all the virile surface, he was an ocean of hidden feelings. He was definitely not what she and everybody else saw from the outside. He was darker and full of secrets…

The memory had taken Thranduil back years ago, when he was just an elfling.

_“Thranduil…” Oropher’s voice echoed in the corridor. “My study, now!”_

_The king’s voice clearly showed deep annoyance. Thranduil entered the room. Miklovand was already in there. Thranduil gave him a suspicious look._

_The king went behind his desk and regarded Thranduil with emotionless eyes._

_“Thranduil, have you seen my missing ring?” Oropher said sternly._

_Thranduil’s eyes widened._

_“Ada…I…I don’t know what you’re talking about?” he stammered._

_“I’m talking about my ring Thranduil…the royal ring…the sign of my kingdom.” Oropher said calmly. “It’s been missing for a while…”_

_Thranduil knew the golden ring. In fact he was very fond of it and Oropher knew this. The ring with the shape of a beech leaf that he had learned long ago not to touch it._

_Oropher gave a look to Miklovand. “Miklovand told me that he has seen it in your room…”_

_“What?!” Thranduil gasped. “That’s not true…I haven’t seen the ring for ages…”_

_“He’s lying…” Miklovand murmured. “He took it from your desk…”_

_“Why are you saying such things?” Thranduil said startled._

_“He said that if he took the ring you wouldn’t be able to remain the king and he would replace you!”_

_Thranduil’s jaw dropped. How could he weave such lies? Why was he saying such things?_

_Oropher sighed and turned to Thranduil. “Perhaps we should take a look at your room…”_

_“Father…I…”_

_“Lady Markin?” Oropher called and a lady entered. “Search the prince’s room for the royal ring…look for it everywhere…”_

_The lady bowed and left._

_“Ada…” Thranduil looked as his father startled. “I haven’t been in your study for ages…I swear...I have nothing to do with this…he’s lying.”_

_“We’ll see son…” the king said. “We’ll see…”_

_A few breathless minutes passed. Thranduil looked at Miklovand with disbelief. Why was he saying such things? They were never fond of each other…Thranduil had always preferred Galdor as a friend …but why this?_

_There was a knock on the door and the lady entered._

_“I found it my lord…” she handed the ring to Oropher. “It was under the mattress.”_

_So it was all a setup…a dirty lie to put Thranduil down in his father’s eyes. Thranduil looked at Miklovand who was standing there so innocently._

_“Well...” Oropher sighed. “I must confess I preferred a different turn of events Thranduil…”_

_Thranduil and Miklovand exchanged looks. But they both remained silent._

_“Why did you do this?” the king suddenly smacked his fist on the desk making them both jump._

_Thranduil felt so sick… so betrayed. This pest had officially declared war._

_“I didn’t do it…” Thranduil said and he could feel Miklovand tense beside him. Oropher looked at him with disbelief then he turned to Miklovand expectantly._

_The other elfling gave Thranduil another look then he looked up at his godfather. “ada, he said that he would have the ring one day anyway…”_

_“What?” Thranduil cried. “He’s lying father…”_

_Oh how filthy he was…the pest…how could he look in the eyes of the king and weave such lies. Oropher turned to Thranduil and towered above him._

_“Do you deny this?” he said in a dangerously calm voice._

_“Yes father…” Thranduil said firmly._

_“Then how do you explain this?” Oropher asked. “How did this end up in your room?”_

_“I don’t know ada…” Thranduil said desperately. “Perhaps Miklovand has put it there to accuse me…”_

_“What?” Miklovand cried. “Why would I do such a thing?”_

_“Because of the same reason you’re lying right now!” Thranduil cried back._

_“ENOUGH!” the king’s voice made them silent. Oropher looked up at Thranduil. “Having the ring doesn’t make you king Thranduil…Wisdom does!”_

_In his heart Thranduil had hoped that Oropher wouldn’t believe those lies. He always believed that Oropher knew everything; that he always found out the truth eventually. But his beliefs were shattered into pieces. It was clear that Oropher had believed his godson, over his son and he felt terribly betrayed._

_Thranduil remained silent. A few moments passed. Oropher regarded him with a look full of disappointment._

_“Besides…” Oropher continued in a more angry tone. “You’ll never be king as long as I am alive. You must get rid of me first…”_

_“Ada…I don’t…”_

_“That will make you a kin slayer along with a liar and a thief…” Oropher finished unmercifully._

_Thranduil looked at him with disbelief. Then he locked his eyes on Miklovand and spat out his words. “I am not a liar, nor I am a thief…nor do I ever wish to be at your place ada…because the first thing I would do is getting rid of this pest.”_

_“Mind your tongue Thranduil…” Oropher yelled. “You’re brothers…”_

_“He’s not my brother…” Thranduil answered back losing all courtesy._

_The other elfling lowered his head. He knew Thranduil well. Miklovand had taken him to his edge intentionally, and now he was being blamed and that was all Miklovand wanted, to have Oropher for himself._

_“I should’ve known.” Oropher said looking at Thranduil with disgust. “The troubles always take root from you…even if you’re innocent about the ring, I cannot forgive the words you just said about your brother…”_

_“He’s not my brother…” Thranduil repeated with clenched teeth._

_Silence fell upon the room. The emptiness Thranduil felt was killing him, it was like losing a loved one. Oropher finally opened a closet and took out a belt._

_“Miklovand, never spy on Thranduil again...you’re brothers, you must have each other’s back…” Oropher said firmly. “You may leave…”_

_Mikelovand gave Oropher a slight clumsy bow and opened the door. He heard Oropher’s voice woofing at Thranduil. “Bend over the chair.”_

_Thranduil obeyed in silence. He glanced at the half open door and his eyes met Miklovand’s who was still watching him from behind the door._

_“You must learn not to lie elfling…”_

_And then his father’s belt slashed him on the back._

_Thranduil had never known hate, but from that day he knew he hated the foster brother that had caused this distance between him and his father._

 

“Thranduil…are you alright?”

Leuthil took him out of his thoughts.

“Yes sugar…” He said gathering himself. “I was just haunted by the past.”

Leuthil looked at him for a second. “The past you had with lord Miklovand?” she asked.

Thranduil looked at her. “Someone is curious!” He chuckled.

Leuthil also smiled shyly but said nothing.

“Yes I was thinking about the pest…” Thranduil said bitterly.

“I can sense there is a story, and a reason behind your hate…” she said.

“There has always been a competition for my father’s approval. Of course I gave in to him a long time ago…he won and I lost.” Thranduil said casually. “He lied so many times to my father…plotted many complicated plans to put distance between us….”

Leuthil’s eyes widened. “What?” she gasped. “And you never told your father?”

“Of course I didn’t…”

“But why…”

“My father loves him…Imagine how upset he would have become…” Thranduil said. “He loves Miklovand more than me…I let them be…I wouldn’t cause him such a pain.”

Leuthil was startled. “What happened between you?”

“Miklovand plotted some kind of a plan to show me a liar and a thief in my father’s eye, and he succeeded…we were elflings but the incident decided many things that day… Miklovand was cherished as the king’s good son since then…as for my father and me, our relationship got worst within every day…I always hoped that he would one day see who the good one is but my hopes were in vain.” Thranduil said bitterly. “My father betrayed me for his foster son…”

Then he looked at Leuthil in the eye. “I think it’s reasonable to hate Miklovand.” he said. “He took my father away from me…”

Leuthil lowered her gaze. This prince was definitely not what she had expected.

 

 

It was nearly sundown when they returned to the palace. Galdor took the horses away.

 

“Thank you for joining us Leuthil…” Aleth said sweetly.

“Thank you for inviting me…” Leuthil said smiling.

“We shall do this more often…” Thranduil said.

“Perhaps” Leuthil smiled. “I shall head home now…have good evening. My prince, my lady”

When she had gone out of sight Aleth turned to Thranduil. “You like her…” she said matter-of-factly.

Thranduil smiled. “Since when little sisters put their nose in their big brother’s business?” he said.

“I’m just saying that you’re too obvious.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s a very special girl…but not one you can play with…”

“Why does everyone think I’m playing!?” Thranduil said irritated. Then he turned away from her. He didn’t want to blow his anger on her. Leuthil seemed so unreachable. And everyone reminded that to him.

After a long walk through the corridors he reached his bed chamber. He was surprised to see the candles lit in his room.

“Good evening my lord…”

Moray’s voice made him jump. She was lying on his bed, naked. Thranduil felt a familiar twitching in his leggings. This particular elleth knew what she was doing.

“It’s been a while…don’t you want to rest with me?” she said seductively.

Thranduil smiled at the suggestion.

***

_My Dearest Aleth;_

_Dear Aleth;_

_Aleth;_

_I do not know how I have dared to write this? But I needed you to know how I feel._

_My heart swells as my hands shake while I write to you. You; the princess of the woodland, the single daughter of the Elvenking and the beloved sister of the prince I serve so loyally; the princess of my dreams. But they say that love blinds, and that love destroys all wisdom…so even if I shall burn in your flames of fury, so be it._

_Yes my lady, I speak to you of love…of passion…and I dissolve as a candle while I think of you…_

_Your humble servant_

Though it was not a long letter Aleth read the letter many times to comprehend the meaning fully. The pictures of years ran through her mind. Galdor…Thranduil’s soul mate, the prince’s inseparable shadow…her secret crush. She had always secretly worshiped his handsome features and his heroic acts. How many times had he saved Thranduil from certain death? How many times had he sacrificed his own comfort for the sake of her family? She had known him since she could remember. But she had never realized that their feelings were mutual. He had never looked at her the wrong way. He had never shown anything to discomfort her. He was braver than her though. He had put his fear from Thranduil and the king aside and confessed his feelings. She envied his courage.

She rose from her bed and took out a box from a drawer and she placed the letter carefully inside.

“Mistress Jansu…”

The door opened and her faithful maid entered.

“Yes your highness?”

“Tell Lord Galdor that I would meet him beside the river at sunrise…”

“Yes my lady…”

“And Jansu…” She turned and looked at the lady in the eye. “I do not want the prince or anyone else to know about this…”

“As you wish my lady…” the mistress bowed and left.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Lenor, you’ve kept me waiting for hours now…” Leuthil said irritated. “Not to mention that you left me to go alone on the contest day…”

“My dear, I had to finish that book…” he said simply.

“Well you might just go back and do your thing!” she woofed and turned to leave.

“Leuthil” Lenor begged and grabbed her elbow. “Come on dear, you must understand…”

“I understand that you have work to do…and I respect it…but I do not think you care enough for me to just put a little time aside for seeing me…” Leuthil said. “I think we better go our separate ways Lenor.”

She released her arm and stormed away.

 

 

Morey was deep in sleep. Thranduil was restless though. It was a strange thing. All through last night he was like this. Making love to Morey had been as sweet as always but all through the night, Leuthil hadn’t left his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The extent of his distraction was so much that had annoyed Morey.

He rose from her side and put on his leggings and a dark green tunic. He would have to get out of bed in an hour anyway and he really didn’t have the nerve for Galion’s non-stop talking in the morning. Then he saw something from the window. Was that really her?...he went outside to the balcony. Yes…it was her. She was walking so angrily towards the palace garden. He felt his heart sink in his chest.

 

 

Leuthil had reached the palace, but she had a few hours until her morning classes with the queen and other court girls. She sat on one of the benches in the royal garden. When the morning breeze touched her skin she felt lighter.

Lenor had been a pain in her neck for a long time…their relationship was more annoying than lovely. She instinctively grabbed her necklace as she always did when she was nervous. Her mother had given that to her long ago, before she sailed for Valinor. It was a tiny compass, hanged from a golden chain.

 

“Are you alright my lady…?”

She jumped from the deep-toned voice only to see the prince standing beside her. She hadn’t even noticed him approaching.

“Good morning my prince…” she stood.

Thranduil nodded and gestured for her to sit down and he sat next to her. “You’re up early my prince.”

“I couldn’t sleep… when I looked from the window I saw you.” Thranduil said. “And you looked like you could use a little company.”

She smiled at that but remained silent.

“What’s wrong?” he asked seriously and gently brushed away her hair from her face. His touch made her burn. It was just a simple touch but it made her blood boil.

“Nothing…” She murmered. “I just did what I had to do a long time ago…”

“Those kinds of words usually come from girls who have dumped boys.” Thranduil said mischievously.

“How do you know!!!?” Leuthil said with an open mouth.

“Well… I have seen enough girls…” Thranduil said.

Leuthil smirked. Definitely he had seen _enough_ girls and she was no different from the others. There was silence for a few moments.

“Come…” Thranduil stood. “Let me cheer your mood…”

“My prince…I…” She said doubtfully.

“Oh please…” Thranduil begged. “I just want to show you something…”

 

She obeyed. And they walked to the woods talking along the way. It was a surprise how they never ran out of subjects to talk about. Unlike his father Thranduil was very interested in the customs of Silvan and kept asking endless questions and unlike most of the girls Leuthil was very well educated and bright and she was also loaded with several questions about court matters. They walked a long way until they reached a clear area.

 “We’re here!” he pointed at the clearing. “This is where the wild roses grow every spring…”

Leuthil gasped. There were at least thousands of crimson wild roses, grown out where no other flower would. She went closer; their heavenly odor reached her. It was like a dream.

It was amazing. How beautiful these roses were, and how Thranduil couldn’t see their beauty when she stood among them in awe.

“You look like a rose among teasels when you stand there…” he said enchanted.

She raised her eyebrows. “Haven’t you noticed my prince…that I am not the type to fall for your charming words…?”

Thranduil frowned. “I’m just saying the truth…” he said innocently. “You may call me a liar if you want to…”

She smiled at him and came closer. Thranduil suddenly looked so upset…she knew she had been cruel.

“I don’t think you’re a liar…” she said smiling. “But put yourself in my shoes…”

Thranduil looked up at her and she continued. “How would I dare give my heart to you while I’ve seen how you’ve broken the hearts of others so many times…?”

Thranduil was silent for a few seconds. Then he looked at her again. “You have every right to keep away from me…” he said. “I am not a good person. I know myself well. I’m rude and aggressive and selfish…and I take every female creature on the face of Arda to my bed…”

Leuthil chuckled at how he confessed the truth. But he continued seriously. “But since I saw you…” he said. “I feel…I feel different. I’ve never felt this way before…I never cared for another being in the world but…I…I care for you…so much.”

Leuthil smiled at him. She caught how he looked away from him when he talked about his emotions. It was amazing how he would change into a shy little boy when he confessed his feelings… She had suddenly realized how he was so much more beautiful than the roses. Clearly Galion hadn’t tended to him as his hair was wildly dishelved. His dark eyebrows elicited his aquamarine eyes. His eyes were still puffy from sleep and his face was as plain and handsome as one could dream of. This was a lovely messy ruined young elf, which was showing her simple kindness…he was not the spoiled prince she knew from childhood.

“Thank you” She said finally. “You’ve really cheered my mood…”

She looked upon the roses once more. “Perhaps we can come here more often…me and you.” she said.

He smiled at that...

***

Thranduil was exhausted when he came back from his first patrol. He had participated in patrols as a soldier before, but it was an entirely different task as a captain. He had been in a two day patrol around the capital and he couldn’t be gladder to be back home.

They took their horses to the stables and he headed for his father’s study. The guard at the door let the king know of his arrival and he was sent inside.

His father’s study was one of the rooms he hated the most. It was damp, dark, and full of books and it smelled like old parchment. It also recalled childhood memories he didn’t want to remember. The king was sitting behind his desk, drowned in the mountain of parchments in front of him. Thranduil took pity on him. He looked up when Thranduil bowed at him.

“Majesty…”

“Welcome back Thranduil…was your patrol positive?”

“Indeed my king…I brought the reports you asked for…” he said and handed the king a long piece of parchment. “There is clear evidence that there are orcs and even other foul creatures very close to the capital.”

The king studied the report for a few minutes then he looked up at him again clearly satisfied with the detailed information. “Do you suppose we shall send troops there?

 “Yes, I would definitely suggest that…if we don’t run these creatures out they will come closer to the capital and the villages within every day.”

Oropher rubbed his eyes and thought for a second.

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few months…and I was waiting for your information to arrive.” The king said finally. “And the information you have brought me has approved what I had in mind…We need to face it…we do not have enough power to hold back the evil around us…perhaps we shall move again…”

“Move again?” Thranduil said with wide eyes.

“I know it’s hard…but if we cannot defeat this evil, we need to flee from it…”

“But your majesty…we can fight them back if we train more soldiers…” Thranduil protested.

“I brought these people here with the promise that I’ll keep them safe…” Oropher said. “I cannot force all the sons of Greenwood to become warriors…”

Thranduil frowned and fell silent…the memories of their several moves were too bitter for him to give in to another one.

 When Oropher saw Thranduil’s silence he smiled. “It’s just a mere thought Thranduil…I’ll think about it more when Elrond goes away…my mind is too occupied with his affair at the moment.”

Thranduil nodded and Oropher was silent for a few moments. “There is something else…” he said finally. “Sit down Thranduil…”

He sat himself on the offered chair in front of the desk.

 “Thranduil” Oropher said tenderly. “Is there anything you wish to tell me?”

Thranduil frowned but said nothing.

“Perhaps about this new girl you’re seeing…Lady Leuthil, am I right?!” Oropher pushed.

Thranduil blushed. He hated how Oropher knew everything. Oropher laughed at his son’s crimson face and red ears.

“Seriously Thranduil you’re tapping a very dangerous vein courting Alheru’s daughter.” He said still chuckling.

Thranduil was amazed how forever stern Oropher had found such a huge humor in his love affair. After long moment his father finally became serious again and he leaned on his desk.

“I don’t ever remember you get embarrassed talking about a lady…” he said. “Does this mean that this affair is serious?”

Thranduil lowered his gaze and said nothing. It had been a long time since he had had a heart to heart conversation with his father. And it felt so strange…

“Tell me Thranduil…” Oropher encouraged.

“I…I think I love her…” Thranduil finally muttered.

 He would’ve predicted some mocking or at least another few minutes of laughter from Oropher but an uncharacteristic fatherly smile shaped on his lips instead. “That’s good…” he whispered. “Very good…”

“I thought you wouldn’t approve…”

“Why wouldn’t I…?” the king smiled. “She’s a lovely girl…worthy of the family and worthy of you.”

Thranduil waited for another _don’t play with her_ lecture from his father but instead he smiled again.

“The first step of becoming a true man is to learn how to love a fragile maiden…” he said.

Thranduil smiled shyly.

“You’ve grown into a fine young man Thranduil…” Oropher said with regret in his voice. “I regret how I never appreciated your childhood.”

Thranduil wanted to stand and shout ‘Who are you and what have you done to my father?’ Oropher regretted something; that was something he didn’t hear every day.

“We still have long years ahead of us…” Thranduil said finally.

Oropher nodded with a smile.

“You look tired…” the king said after long moments. “You may leave…”

Thranduil rose and gave him a bow. He opened the door but hesitated. The king looked up to see what had stopped his son.

“It was good to talk to you…ada…” Thranduil said. Oropher smiled at him and Thranduil went out.

He headed for his own chamber. He felt light as a feather. It had been years that he hadn’t talked to his father so freely. It seemed like he had found an old treasure which he had lost long ago. He smiled to himself.

 

“Someone is happy…!”

He jumped and when he saw Miklovand come out from the darkness he sighed.

“What do you want Miklovand?”

“Why are you so happy?”

“Why can’t you keep your nose out of my business?” Thranduil woofed.

“Perhaps you’ve taken that new lady of yours to bed…” Miklovand said devilishly.

“Shut up!” Thranduil flamed. He knew all Miklovand wanted was to wreck his nerves but he just couldn’t control himself.

“Ah protective are we? …what was her name? ...hmmm…oh yes…Leuthil” he said.

“Don’t bring her name on your filthy mouth.” Thranduil said in a threatening tone, taking a dangerous step forward.

“I always thought she’s a nice girl, but she ended up as one of your whores anyway…” Miklovand said shaking his head. “I can only imagine what she tastes like…”

Thranduil grabbed his collar and shook him rapidly. “Shut up…SHUT UP…you filthy pest…shut up” he raised his hand to hit him but his wrist was caught by another stronger hand that pulled him away with force.

“What do you think you’re doing Thranduil?” Oropher shouted standing between the two.

That was all he needed. Of all the servants and the guards and the members of the court, his father had to be witness to this fight.

“He…” Thranduil panted.

“He what?!” Oropher shouted.

“Nothing…” Thranduil said glaring at Miklovand. “He just tried to ruin my night and useless as he is, he succeeds in this particular task very well.”

“Did you say anything to him…?” Oropher glared at Miklovand who had cuddled himself against the wall; acting as innocent as he could.

“No he didn’t…there’s no need to for him to say anything.” Thranduil said immediately. “Ah… just look how pathetic he is…Just the sight of him is enough for me to throw up…”

Before he could control his rage Oropher’s slap hit him hard in the face.

The force was enough for him to stumble a few steps back and he needed to lean on the wall to regain his balance.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight Thranduil…” Oropher threatened. “Get out of my sight.”

Thranduil did not move but stood there for moments.

“Did you not hear me?” Oropher barked.

Thranduil looked at the king with broken eyes…

“I was a fool to think I had you back…” he said hoarsely. “I lost you to him a long time ago…”

 

For a moment Oropher realized how heartbroken his son was. His words pierced Oropher’s heart like daggers.

“Thranduil…” Oropher murmured, but before he could say anything, Thranduil turned and disappeared in the dark corridors.

 

The heaviness was back along with a feeling of stupidity. How stupid he was to think he could mend their relationship…he was suddenly realizing how distant they had become, how impossible it had become to save this father- son bond.

 When he opened the door to his chamber, he saw Morey sitting on his desk. Oh this was all he needed for tonight.

“So you came finally…” she said seductively.

“Get out of my room…” he said, trying so hard not to shout.

“My prince?” the girl raised her eyebrows.

“You heard me…” he said opening the door for her. “Out! Please”

She came down the desk and hesitated for a second. “This is about that new girl isn’t it…” she said.

 Thranduil sighed and looked away.

“You have found a new doll and you’re throwing the old one away …” she said bitterly.

“Morey…I need to be alone…please leave” Thranduil said, trying so hard not to upset her more.

 “You think you can throw me away like trash, but you’re wrong my prince…” Morey said threatening.

“Get out of my room Morey…”

“I’ll make sure you pay for playing with me…” she said with tears. “I’m not like others…”

“I said get out…” he shouted as he grabbed her arm and swept her out of his room. “And don’t ever come back again…”

And he slammed the door at her face.

 

He was shaking for long moments with his back to the door, he had intended to tell Morey not to come anymore but not like this. He was planning to do this gradually. He didn’t mean to upset her, but then again he didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen.

 He locked the door and collapsed on the bed…his face was sore from the smack and the heaviness had returned to his heart duplicated. He pulled himself up the bed and fell asleep along with all his clothes. 

***

It was still dark when Galdor went out of the palace gates. He shivered from cold and wrapped himself tighter in his cloak. He couldn’t remember his heart ever beat so rapidly, nor could he remember his knees feel so weak. His mind was racing with thoughts. What will she say? Would she reproach him? Would she tell the king? Would he be banished from the realm? What would Thranduil do if he heard his most trusted man was in love with his sister? How betrayed would he feel.

He reached the river soon but it seemed like years. The princess was not yet there. He started pacing up and down a small path. He could feel his heart somewhere in his throat.

“Good morning…”

He turned towards her fine voice as he felt his insides fall to the ground. She was wearing a silver cloak with a hood. Her eyes were still puffy from sleep, and she was beautiful as always. Yet there was another thing in her face, something he hadn’t seen before.

 

“My lady…” he murmured in a hardly audible tone as he lowered his head.

She came closer and looked him in the eye for long moments. He couldn’t hold her gaze. He looked away from those aquamarine eyes that were so similar to Thranduil’s. He couldn’t read anything from them.

“My lady…forgive me…” Galdor stammered suddenly feeling coward. “I will never bother you again…”

He turned to leave but she put her hand on his arm and stropped him. He looked at her doubtfully. She smiled.

“Write to me more…” she said. “Mistress Jansu will give me your letters, she won’t tell anyone.”

Galdor’s eyes widened with disbelieve. She chuckled at his expression.

“I better go…” she said as she looked around worriedly.  “I’m looking forward to your letters…”

She hesitated for a second but then she kissed him lightly on the cheek and ran off towards the palace.

Galdor just stood there for long moments…breathless.


	5. Chapter 5

Thranduil woke up before dawn with an irritating headache. His whole body was in cramp pain. He rose and went to the bathing chambers.

 The warm water made him feel better but his head was exploding from thoughts. He suddenly felt how he needed Galion’s massages but he wasn’t cruel enough to wake him at this hour.

It wasn’t long before he got out of the tub, dressed and went out of the palace. The sun was slightly shining from the east, and it was still a bit cool. He just walked to the woods, not knowing where exactly his feet were leading him. He had been thinking for a while about leaving Greenwood…and last night’s events had made him think about it more seriously.

He found himself where the wild roses had grown. And he felt a swell in his stomach. He sat beneath a maple tree and leaned on its trunk. This was one of the few maples in the forest…and he knew it well.

“It’s been long since you came to me…are you upset princeling?” he heard the tree…it was the gift given to him by the Valar. All elves had a connection to trees but Hearing and understanding them, being able to talk to them…was something he had only seen in himself…

He ignored the maple and closed his eyes. The maple knew him enough not to ask him more questions. For moments there was just the sound of the breeze in the spring leaves and he drifted into a dreamless sleep again.

 

“My prince…”

A soft voice called him, but his eyelids were too heavy to open…

“Thranduil…wake up, you’ll get ill if you stay here…”

He knew this voice. His eyes jerked open. Yes…it was her.

“Leuthil!” he gasped gathering himself and sitting up straight.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I…I was just…nothing really…” he said. “What are _you_ doing here?”

To his surprise she blushed. “I…nothing …I was just passing…”

He smiled at her obvious lie but said nothing. He had missed her pretty face…

“Thranduil” she called worriedly touching his still sore cheek. “What has happened to you?”

“Nothing…” he said immediately, trying to look away.

“This is not _nothing_ , your face is nearly bruised, have you picked up a fight with someone?” she said anxiously.  

“If I pick a fight with someone, that fellow will get bruises on the cheek not me…” he said insulted.

She rolled her eyes and thought for a moment. “So what happened…?”

“I said nothing Leuthil, drop the subject…” he said heatedly as he sat up straight.

Leuthil could guess what had happened. Slaps in the face were reserved for fathers with disobedient sons, which Thranduil was a fitting case…but she didn’t push the subject. Yet his swelled face broke her heart.

“When did you return from your patrol…?” she asked changing the subject.

“Just last night…”

Leuthil hesitated. She didn’t know if she should say this but she couldn’t help herself. “I missed coming to this place together…” she said, and she blushed again.

She was so beautiful when she blushed with shyness. It was amazing how a bold girl like her would suddenly become so timid while talking about her feelings.

 Thranduil gazed at her for long moments before he caressed her cheek with his finger...so soft, so pale… His eyes darted to her lips and he stroked them with his thumb, making her hold her breath for an instance. “I missed it to…” he whispered.

Leuthil had never realized what his touch could do to her. How those eyes spoke of his inner desires and how he wanted her, and how he kept himself from kissing her…she had missed him…she had grown so used to his presence.

It was like she was not herself. Like she was enchanted by a powerful spell. She pulled herself closer and automatically Thranduil put his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head were his neck met his powerful shoulder. The scent of his hair could take her to angelic realms…and the weight of his arm around her was the most pleasant feeling in the world. How had she ever thought she could resist him…?  

The feel of her in his arms was enough to send him on reverie. He lowered his head to take in the sweet scent of her hair…how so desirable. He thought of all the things he dreamed of doing with her…the lust he felt…the love he felt…but in the end, holding her like this was enough for all eternity.

Neither of them knew how long they had stayed there but at last Leuthil broke.

“I need to go back…” she said. “I promised I’d help the queen in some of her chores.”

Thranduil nodded and rose up with her. He embraced her hard again and kissed her hair…

“Thranduil…” she whispered. “This is wrong…”

“Why?” he whispered back.

“I won’t become one of your other mistresses…” she said seriously. “No matter how hard my feelings are for you…” she pulled away from him. “So just stop tempting me…”

He was silent... She pulled herself together, logic suddenly coming back to her. She wanted so mush to hear him say she was different…but he didn’t…she knew it…he was playing with her like he played with others…

“I’m sorry” she said. “I was wrong to come to you today. I should’ve known I’m no different from your other ladies.”

She began to walk away but before she could pass him, he grabbed her arm. Oh how his touch enchanted her…even if it was so callously.

“There is no other lady…” he said simply. “I’ll wait for you to believe me some day…” and he released her arm. “You’re the only reason I’m still staying in Greenwood…” he said and looked away from her.

Was it really possible? That he would leave that unruly life of his just to be with her…was it possible that he loved her that much? … She knew if she wouldn’t leave that instance her pounding heart would burst out and kill her…

***

“Majesty, you look tired, shall we continue tomorrow?” Elrond said.

Oropher rubbed his eyes and looked up at him.

“Perhaps we shall. I’m exhausted and I might just give you a benefit I do not intend.” He said.

Elrond smirked at that, and they rose from their seats. Elrond knew these negotiations would be difficult but not this difficult. Oropher was like an unbreakable mountain.

They headed for their chambers and it was passed midnight when Oropher entered the royal bedchambers.

The room was lit only with one candle on the bedside. And the queen had turned in. Oropher changed into his night gown and slipped under the sheets quietly as not to wake her.

“Oropher…” she murmured sleepily. “You’re finally back…”

“Sorry I woke you my love…” he said embracing her from behind and kissing her neck.

They rested like that for long moments.

“How was the meeting with Elrond?” she asked, clearly not being able to go back to sleep.

“We’ll get somewhere eventually but not soon…” Oropher said. “But my chief concern is not Elrond for now…”

Harma stirred to face him, resting her head on her hand. “What is your chief concern?” she asked curiously.

“Thranduil” Oropher said simply.

“What about him?” she asked clearly worried.

Oropher was silent for a few seconds. “I caught him fighting with Miklovand again tonight…” he said.

“Let me guess…” Harma rolled his eyes. “You argued as usual.”

“He said things…” Oropher said then he frowned and fell silent again.

“Oh husband, he always says stupid things when his angry…” Harma smiled. “And I should say you take him to that state so often!”

“No…this was different.” Oropher said. “I never realized how deeply he hates Miklovand…I always thought it’s a simple brotherly struggle…but tonight I realized it’s far more than that.”

“What did he tell you…?” Harma asked, getting the gravity of the subject.

“He said that he’d lost me to Miklovand a long time ago…as if there had been an unspoken competition between them and the prize had been my attention or approval.” Oropher said bitterly. “I believe I’ve hurt him.”

Harma sighed. “I know that you protect Miklovand because you don’t want him to feel any emptiness in life but…perhaps you sometimes judge him too innocent…as you judge Thranduil too mischievous.”

Oropher was silent again. “Perhaps…” he whispered finally. “If Thranduil would behave a bit better it would be easier to approve him…”

“He’s young and wild…that’s all.”

“Thranduil has found himself a girl, by the way.” Oropher said.

“You say it as if it’s a new thing!” Harma chuckled.

“No” Oropher said settling his head on his arm. “I think this one is serious. He said he loves her…can you imagine that!?”

Harma’s eyes widened. “Are you sure it’s Thranduil you’re talking about?”

Oropher chuckled too. “You should’ve seen his face…he became red as tomatoes when I asked him about her…”

“Who’s this witch?” she asked excitedly.

“Lady Leuthil, Alheru’s daughter.” 

“Oh Valar…” Harma chuckled loud and collapsed on her back. “I shall say my son is in trouble.”

Oropher nodded and smiled. But his expression did not last long as he was dragged into his previous concerns again.

When Harma saw this, she pulled herself closer and kissed him as she caressed his hair.

“Thranduil feels himself very afar from you…you should put yourself in his shoes sometimes…and I’m sure everything will be fine, when you convince him that you care about him as much as you do…”

“It would be nice if he’d also put himself in my shoes…” Oropher said bitterly.

“Well you two are very alike…” Harma said bitterly. “You are both too proud.”

Oropher was silent for long moments. “I’ll find a right time to talk to him…” Oropher finally said and kissed his beloved wife.

***

“Are you alright iell-nin” Alheru asked.

Leuthil had been strangely silent that night and it worried her father.

“Yes ada…I’m fine” she said faking a slight smile as she took the empty teacups to the kitchen.

Despite being a member of the court Alheru had not forgotten his Silvan roots and had chosen to remain in his wooden little house, deep in the forest. He followed his daughter to the kitchen where he knew she was fleeing from his questions. 

“You are so alike your mother…” he said smiling. “She also ran to the kitchen to avoid my questions…” the memories of his departed wife rushed back to him.

“I’m not avoiding anything ada…” she said keeping away from his eyes.

“Is this about the prince…?” he asked seriously.

Leuthil’s heart sank in her chest but she remained silent.

“I know you’re seeing each other…” he said clearly not satisfied. “Oropher talked to me about it…”

She finally looked up meeting his gaze. “There is nothing between us ada…”

“I’ve known him since he was an elfling Leuthil…He is a great worrior, a great captain…” he said ignoring her words. “ But these does not matter when it comes to my daughter…what concerns me is this wasteful life he leads…I cannot close my eyes on it…”

“Ada…” she said firmly. “We’re just friends…that’s all”

“Leuthil my dear…” he said holding her shoulders. “Between an ellon and an elleth there is no friendship possible, there is passion, hate, worship, love; but no friendship.”

She lowered her gaze, counting the tiles of the kitchen. She knew how his father did not approve of this son of Oropher like many others. She couldn’t even imagine standing in his face for Thranduil.

“Don’t worry ada…” she said simply.

He released her shoulders and she turned away from him placing the cups in the cupboard.

He wished that his wife would suddenly return from the west and bring him some wisdom. It seemed that as much as he tried, he couldn’t be enough for his daughter when it came down to love affairs.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I forgot to write the elvish translations...it's on the chapter notes :D

_The brunette looked him in the eye as she slipped her hand in his leggings, caressing his arousal gently, and then she smiled seductively. The blonde elleth was working on his tunic to take it of him as she kissed him intensely. In a few seconds the brunette was sucking his length while the blonde was still kissing him. The blonde broke the kiss to take of her shift. Her slender body glittered in the candle light; he reached for her breasts and fondled her nipples. The brunette came up and switched her place with the blonde, tangling her tongue with his. He just couldn’t hope for this evening to be better._

_Suddenly the door flung open and the girls screamed as they ran for their clothes. The king was standing in the doorway with all his glory; his anger radiating in the room. He gestured for the sluts to leave. And when the door was shut his eyes were again locked on his son who had now covered himself in a night robe and despite all his erection pain had stood up, looking at him evenly with no shame._

_“What do you think you’re doing?” Oropher barked._

_He did not answer but only looked away._

_“Why do you do this?” Oropher asked in a more soft tone. “Is it just to torture my nerves?”_

_“No it’s just to pleasure myself…”_

_Oropher was like a dragon spitting fire. He came closer to him rapidly and grabbed his hair hard, his rage triggered._

_“AAAAH…” Thranduil cried as he was forced to lean down by the pull of his hair._

_The king pulled out a dagger with emerald stones on its handle. He pushed back Thranduil’s gown and pulled out his still aroused cock violently…_

_“AAAAAAiiii…adaaaa…” he cried and clutched to his father’s robes instinctively as tears filled his eyes. “You’re hurting me…aaai”_

_“This elfhood of yours has brought me too much shame already…” Oropher said behind clenched teeth. “Perhaps it will do us all some benefit if I cut it off.” He put the knife on his length._

_“Addaaaa….AAAAAiiiiii….please….please…” he couldn’t even make a sentence…he couldn’t even breathe. The pain was too much already and he knew well that the rage that had taken over his father could make him ready to do anything, even cut off his son’s elfhood._

_“Adaaa…Please….I’m sorry…PLEASE” he begged. “Don’t do this to me…please…PLEASE”_

_“Oh you pathetic disgrace…” Oropher spat out and smacked him in the face. He fell on the wooden floor and huddled himself up against the wall, moaning from pain and fear._

_Oropher looked at him with disgust before he went to the door._

_He turned to him once more. “You shall have no food for two days, and you will not leave this room until I give you permission to…You have plenty of time to finish yourself of until then…” he said. “I wished that you could learn some good manners…and some wisdom.”_

_He gave him another glare and slammed the door behind him._

_Thranduil heard the sound of the lock, but he didn’t care…the pain in his groin was his chief concern for now._

He jumped out of his dream and sat straight in his bed. The dream was just a memory from a long time ago but it had distressed him so much. He reached for the glass of water with trembling hands and realized the sun was completely up. He looked around. The sheets were ruined just to make him realized that he’d been womanless for a long time now.

Before he could gather himself there was a knock on the door and Galdor entered without permission as he normally did.

“Whooooa…hold it there…” Thradnuil cried, holding out his hand to stop Galdor from coming closer.

“What’s wrong with you…?” Galdor asked surprised.

“Nothing” he said immediately still sitting on the bed gathering the sheets around him. “I’m just naked…”

“Well that’s something I have seen before…” Galdor chuckled and came a step closer before Thranduil cried again.

“No, no, no…Don’t come closer!” He said as if he had an infectious disease. “Where is Galion…?”

“The king has ordered your legion to go on a one day patrol around the Capital…” Galdor said shaking a parchment in his hand. “We don’t have much time and Galion wastes a lot of it…so I told him I’ll tend to you myself.”

He came a few steps closer. “Galdor please stay where you are!” Thranduil nearly sobbed, but it was too late.

“Ugh…have you ruined your sheets?” he said surprised.

Thranduil lowered his head like an elfling who has wet his pants. Galdor chuckled.

“Oh you poor princeling that’s not something to be ashamed of…I’ll get you a maiden tonight…where’s Morey anyway?”

“I sent her away…” Thranduil murmured still embarrassed.

“What? Why?”

Thranduil remained silent.

 “Aaah…” Galdor said mischievously. “This is about that lady Leuthil of yours!”

“Alright…” Thranduil said pushing him away and getting out of the bed. “That’s enough teasing…get me my armor…”

Galdor just stared at him and chuckled again.

“I never thought I’d see you in love one day!” he said.

“Galdor, do me another favor and shut up!”

***

For Leuthil Monday morning meant going beside the river and picking up special flowers for dyes and then staying in the workshops until late at night. That Monday was no different. She had her basket in hand and she walked to the river side. She struggled so hard not to go to the wild roses but she failed. She took another road that led her first to where the wild roses had grown.

It was amazing how she was stunned every time she came here. Amazing how her heart swelled whenever she saw those roses. She wondered if Thranduil felt the same…

Leuthil then headed for the river and soon she reached the flowers she wanted on the riverside. She was deeply concentrated on her task as she had bent over to see the plants closely, when she suddenly saw a pair of unfamiliar boots in front of her.

She immediately stood up straight only to see three guards of Imlardis in their uniforms, standing in front of her; one very close and the other two in a little distance. With just one look she could tell that they were significantly young, perhaps it was their first experience outside Rivendell. She instinctively took a step back.

“Well, look what I’ve found!” the closer one said in a mischievous tone. “You never know what you find in the Woodland realm they say! You come for some water and you find a pretty maiden beside it!”

She frowned. All the nerves in her body alert.

“It’s like looking for a silver coin and finding a golden one.” The guard continued and the other two smirked.

She tried to leave as she knew this couldn’t end very well but the talkative one blocked her way.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful?” he said still smiling devilishly.

“I do not believe it’s a part of your business sire!” she said as firmly as she could.

The three burst into laughter. She tried to leave again but he didn’t let her pass.

“Oh come on pretty one…” he said. “We’ll have some fun together and then you can go…”

“Step out of my way…” she said this time threateningly.

“Stubborn are we!” the boy said. “I can assure you we are more stubborn than you as we’ve been kept here too long now with no descent maiden to take care of…our _needs_.”

The other two smirked at his tone.

“I’m sorry sire…” she said calmly, as her eyes searched the woods in hope of some help. “I’m no courtesan…and I’m sure you’re not primitive enough to force yourself upon me…”

“How are you so sure about that…?” he said in a horny voice as he came closer.

She went a few steps back. Clearly she’d failed in awakening some conscious in these folks. She needed to try out another method.

“How dare you threaten me?” she said and elicited an angry gesture despite her fear. “I am a lady of the court. How dare you treat me like this?”

The three laughed at that. And then the dangerous one came even closer stretching his hand to touch her, but she went back again. She knew if she would take another step she would fall into the river that was very close to the waterfall. But the guard was getting even closer. She really didn’t know if drowning in the river was worst than being touched by these folks. The guard’s face was now inches from hers.

“Prince Thranduil wouldn’t be happy if he hears you’ve bothered his lady…” she said breathless.

She felt him hesitate and tense for a second. He stared at her straight in the eye searching for the truth. “She’s bluffing…” one of the others in the back said as he came a little closer.

“What if I’m not …” she said feeling encouraged. “Can you even imagine what he’d do to you?”

 

“No they cannot!” a new voice said.

 

 The three suddenly turned in that direction and Leuthil had never been happier to see Thranduil. He was standing there wearing his travelling armor with all his glory, regarding them with murderous eyes. He rushed closer and in a flash grabbed the closer elf and punched him hard in the face.

“Thranduil!” Leuthil cried…she really wasn’t up for a fight. She only wished that he would take her away from there.

The other two stepped back and lowered their gaze as the first one struggled to stand up again.

Thranduil turned rapidly to Leuthil, gripped her arm hard and shook her as if punishing a very naughty elfling.

“Did he touch you?!” he yelled hysterically, all the veins in his face popping out, his pupils widened dangerously.

“Thranduil calm down!”

“DID HE TOUCH YOU?!!!” he bellowed again, fire in his eyes.

“NO!!!” she cried out from anxiety and the pain he was causing in her arm. She felt him calm a bit but he turned back to the fellow that had just managed to stand and back handed him. The elf cried in pain and fell on the ground again. The other two huddled themselves as the prince wanted to attack them but Leuthil interfered.

“Thranduil calm down…” she said as she stood between him and them grabbing his arm. “They didn’t do anything…” although these elves had scared her but she could clearly imagine how ugly could this get if she wouldn’t control the prince’s anger. He was like a volcano….

The first guard stood again, only to be grabbed from the hair by Thranduil’s firm grip.

 “How dare you threaten my lady…?” Thranduil yelled. “How dare you even set your eyes upon her face…?”

“My prince…” he sobbed. “My prince…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know…”

“Shut that filthy mouth of yours!” he said and slapped the poor elf again.

“Thranduil” Leuthil called as she tried to release the poor guard from Thranduil’s iron grip. “Thranduil, that’s enough…calm down…please”

Thranduil pulled the guard’s head closer to him once more. Blood had filled the poor fellow’s mouth.

“If I hear any other elleth has been bothered by the guards of Imlardis…I consider it, your doing…” Thranduil said with clenched teeth. “Lord Elrond will know what to do with you then!”

The elf moaned from fear.

“Alright my prince…” Leuthil said as she pulled Thranduil’s hand off his hair. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.” she said as she glared at the three. They gathered themselves and ran away into the forest.

It took Thranduil long moments to cool down. Leuthil was also breathing hard. Everything had happened so fast. Thranduil turned to her after long moments of tensed silenced, his anger radiating; his eyes like a wild wolf defending his mate.

“What are you doing here alone?” he said, trying so hard to keep his voice steady.

“I was collecting some plants…” she said showing him the basket.

Thranduil opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again as he didn’t find a suitable sentence that could explain his anger. He huffed out the air and grasped his own hair hysterically.

“…I’m sorry that you had to deal with this…” Leuthil said, lowering her gaze.

 “I’ll take you to the palace before I leave…” He said softy without looking at her.

“There’s no need, I can go myself…” she was silenced by his intense glare.

 

He began walking and she followed him, not daring to talk a word anymore. She could sense his anger, his fear, his love; even if he had his back on her. Even in this state of flaming he was astonishing.

 

Thranduil had succeeded in keeping himself calm but he was shaking from inside. The thoughts of what those unruly soldiers could have done to his treasure made his blood boil. He had to protect her. She was his to protect no matter what.

They reached the palace in an uncomfortable silence. He finally turned to face her after the long walk; his face slightly calmer…

 

“You’ll be in my naneth’s workshop the rest of the day?” he asked.

She nodded. “Until night…”

“My patrol will end after sunset…” he said emotionlessly. “Stay in the palace until I return, I’ll take you home after I come back.”

She frowned. “There’s no need for that, I can get home myself…”

“You will _not_ go to those woods alone _ever_ again…” he said in a threatening voice.

“Thranduil, I’ve gone into those woods since I was an elfling…”

“This is an _order_ Leuthil…not a suggestion.” he interrupted in a firm voice that was slightly loader than normal.

She was startled for a moment; A sense of annoyance filling her. “You don’t have the right to control me Thranduil…”

“As your prince I have every right to control you…or even keep you locked up in the highest tower to make sure you’re safe” He said heatedly. “And since I am frantic and brainlessly overprotective of you; you will never again go into those woods alone!”

She was wordless. His anger was very frightening. He could suddenly turn from a young elf into a mighty dragon, burning everything around him. It was amazing how he was so similar to Oropher when it came to _the rage_. The fury that could make the whole land silent.

He glared at her again and headed for the stables. 

She looked in his direction for long moments, mixture of feelings attacking her. Absentmindedly she touched her neck only to find her necklace was not around it. She felt her heart sink inside her chest.

***

The red petals were boiling in the hot water. Leuthil was staring at their crimson color, deeply in thought. A hand was put on her shoulder.

“Are you all right melon-nin?” Aleth said concerned. “You haven’t said a word today…”

“I’m fine Aleth…” she smiled at the princess.

Aleth looked at her doubtfully and sat beside her. “Well I don’t believe you…” she said. “This is about Thranduil isn’t it…?”

Leuthil’s eyes widened. “Has his grace told you anything?” she said anxious.

“No he’s not the type of person to talk about anything, specially his love affairs…” Aleth assured.

Leuthil felt strange from the term _love affair._ But Aleth ignored her and continued.

“I’ve grown up with him. He’s my brother… He doesn’t need to say anything for me to understand what he feels.”

Leuthil lowered her gaze but said nothing. Although she had been friends with Aleth since she could remember, it was strange talking about Thranduil with her.

“Do you not share the same feeling?” Aleth asked openly. When she felt Leuthil’s hesitance she took her hand into her own. “Leuthil you’re my friend…the things you say to me will remain between us…I promise.”

“Even if I share the same feeling, this is still impossible…” she murmured. “There are many obstacles in our way…”

“What obstacles?” Aleth said frowning.

Leuthil looked at her in the eye. “Aleth, I am a Silvan. We are bound with traditions and customs. And…you know…”

“And my brother’s reputation is not very nice among your folk…” Aleth completed her sentence with a meaningful smile. “He’s a rebel I know…”

“There are also other things…My ada doesn’t approve him, I cannot stand in the face of my father for him…and I’m not even sure if he truly loves me or am I just another love toy…” Leuthil said feeling a rock in her throat. “And even if he is serious I’m sure the king wouldn’t let his only son and heir court a Silvan…not to mention marrying her.”

Aleth was silent for a few moments as Leuthil continued with the task of _staring in the boiling bucket_.

“I know my brother Leuthil…” she finally said. “He’s not at all perfect. He is hotheaded, sometimes bad tempered, disobedient, reckless, stubborn, and very selfish…and you’re a fool if you think you can change him…but as one of his loved ones, I tell you, that if he loves you, he would sacrifice everything for you… _everything_. And I am quite sure you’re not his new toy…”

Leuthil did not answer so the princess continued. “I think you’re just scared to accept his love and you’re trying to put the fault on the others…”

Leuthil opened her mouth to protest but Aleth interrupted. “Oh Leuthil, I’ve known you forever…you always lectured about how you don’t fall for wealth and fame, of course it’s hard for you to accept you’re falling in love with none other than prince Thranduil.” She chuckled.

Leuthil smirked at that as she studied Aleth’s sweet expression. She was indeed beautiful, and very similar to Thranduil. She had the same dark eyebrows, the same pale face and piercing eyes. She also shared the same sense of humor. What was good was the fact that she didn’t share the bad temper that ran in the males of Oropher’s line.  

 

“Open your heart…let yourself feel what he’s offering.” Aleth said with a smile. “Let your heart decide if you love him back or not…”

“You talk as if you’ve experienced such feelings recently…” Leuthil teased.

“Who knows? Maybe I have…” Aleth winked and rose.

“Who’s the unfortunate ellon?” Leuthil said mischievously.

Aleth just giggled and turned to leave. She went a few steps but then turned again.

 “And Leuthil…” she said. “About my father…he’s quite satisfied with your affair.” Then she winked and left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ion-nin: My son  
> iell-nin: My daughter  
> mellon-nin: My friend  
> adar: father  
> ada: dad


	7. Chapter 7

It was hours past nightfall that Leuthil finally got tired of waiting and went out of the palace doors. It was a cool spring night and she had a long way to get home. She was feeling very annoyed by Thranduil’s delay. Why had she even waited? She was not the type of girl who longed male protection, and the forest wasn’t _that_ dangerous anyway…why had she even listened to him? Perhaps it was because he was so perfect, so desirable, so remarkably beautiful, even when his eyes burned with anger, and she was like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake when it came to him… or perhaps it was just how horrifying he would become when the rage took him, and she was just afraid to be the subject of that fury.

Anyway she had also other things racing on her mind. She had to search for her necklace. It was the only thing she had left from her mother. She needed to get back to the riverside; see if she had dropped it there. She couldn’t afford to lose it and already a deep sorrow was rooting in her heart.

 

She had gone a long way in the woods when she heard horses approaching and after seconds a group of 25 mounted soldiers appeared from afar. The forest ground shook under the gallop of their horses.

When they passed her the leader left the group. Even in that darkness she could recognize his huge stallion. He leaded the horse closer to her and looked at her from inside the helmet. She could clearly feel he wasn’t satisfied with seeing her there.

“Lord Galdor…” he called without taking his eyes from her.

Galdor leaded his horse closer to Thranduil’s. “My lord?”

“Take the group back to the palace…I have some business to attend to…”

“But my lord, you have to hand in the report to the king…”

“And take the report with you.” He said handing him a piece of parchment. “There was nothing special to report back anyway.”

Galdor hesitated for a moment; he knew the king expected to see Thranduil back for the report. “As you wish my prince…” he said finally and called for the group to follow him.

Thranduil waited until the last man had vanished in the darkness, and then he dismounted. Leuthil shivered from the sound of metal his clothes made, it made him look so powerful, so unbreakable. He came a few steps closer and took off his helmet, his magnificent face glittering in the night.

“I thought I asked you to stay in the palace until I return…” he said in a dangerously low tone.

“I waited, it was getting late…I thought you won’t show up.”

“Leuthil…I am not Lenor or any other elf you know…” he said towering above her. “When I say I’ll come, I _will_ come…” 

“There’s no need for you to bother yourself so much…I’ve been going to the palace and home for years…I can protect myself…” she said.

“Let’s go…” he interrupted, bringing the horse closer and gesturing for her to hop up. She sighed.

“I need to get to the riverside…” she said.

“Why?”

“I’ve lost my necklace, I need to search for it there…”

“You cannot go there at this time of night…” Thranduil said annoyed.

“My mother gave it to me…” she said desperately. “I cannot lose it…”

“Listen” Thranduil said much more tenderly. “We’ll go there together tomorrow…and we’ll find it, I promise...”

 She sighed. He was right. She couldn’t find it in the dark anyway.

“Come on…get on the horse…” Thranduil said, using her silence.

She obeyed, and after he made sure she was safely settled, he mounted behind her, and took the reins in his large hands.

“I’m not an elfling that you place me in front of you…” she said annoyed.

“Yes you _are_ an elfling…” he said kicking the horse to move. “And a considerably disobedient and naughty one!”

 She secretly chuckled at his annoyed tone.

They rode through the woods in silence. Leuthil realized how he had no intention of making the horse go faster and she appreciated that. His body was warm against hers, in significant contrast to the cool spring breeze. She could feel his strong thigh muscles against her own, and she could feel how he didn’t try to avoid the touch though he was not trying to intensify it either, as he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. She cursed herself because of how shamefully she was enjoying it as well…she was realizing what deep feelings she had developed for him, physically and emotionally…and she cursed herself upon that. All her beliefs were broken into pieces.

There was a bump in the road and the horse shook rapidly under them. Leuthil clenched on the front of the saddle but then she felt his hand circling around her waist, holding her tight against him.

“Let go of the saddle…” he whispered against her ear. “You won’t fall as long as I’m holding you…” his warm breath brushed her neck sending shivers down her spine.

She released the saddle and leaned against him. His hand slightly tightened around her. Yes…she won’t fall…not as long as he held her. 

 

The feel of her against him made his heart race. Her hair had the scent of the beech trees. He could feel her warmth against her soft clothes. This was life; he thought.

Soon they reached the cottage. Thranduil dismounted and helped her come down. She felt strangely cold when he left her. The house was dark when she opened the door.

“Ada has not returned yet…” she said as they entered.

Thranduil couldn’t believe that the stern lord Alheru could be called _ada_. He stood in the doorway until Leuthil lit some candles. He looked around the small cozy house…

“You have a nice house…” he said. “You don’t have wood for the fire place? It’s quite cold tonight…”

“It’s just outside; I can get it myself…”

“You stay there…” he interrupted with a glare. “I’ll get it…”

 

He went out. She smiled at how he treated her like a clumsy, stupid elfling that couldn’t take care of herself, as if she hadn’t done her daily chores all her life. She went to the kitchen and made some tea. When she came back to the living room he had made the fire. He looked so strange making a fire in her house with those combat clothes.

“I thought spoiled princes can’t do hard tasks such as these.” She teased as she handed a cup of tea to him. “I thought servants do it for them…”

He smirked before he took a sip. “I am spoiled…” he chuckled. “Just not _that_ spoiled.” He drank another sip.

“Mmm…I thought court ladies can’t make tea…” he winked. “I thought servants do it for them…”

She giggled. The expression on Thranduil’s face changed dramatically when he saw that. His eyes suddenly filled with passion. He caressed her chin for a second. “You lift my heart when you smile like that…”

She gazed at him for moments, not knowing what to say. He was…mesmerizing.

“What?” he said as he took another sip. “Are you going to become wordless every time I tell you how I feel about you…?”

She grinned shyly and blushed. “I’m just not used to it…”

“Well you need to get used to it …” 

“Why don’t you sit down…” she said pointing at the coaches that seemed very comfortable.

“No I have to go back…” he said finishing the tea and handing back the cup to her like a little elfling who handed back a cup of before-bed milk to his mother.

“You won’t be needing anything else?” he asked.

“No I’ll be alright…” she smiled. “Ada will be back in a few hours anyway.”

“Good…” he murmured and took a few steps towards the door. “Thank you for the tea…”

“Thranduil…” she called before he put his hand on the handle. He turned. “Thank you for today…you’re timing was perfect.”

He nodded silently but said nothing. Clearly the thought of those soldiers was still bothering him.

“It’s nice to be taken cared by you…” she said, as she felt blood rush into her face, and she dropped her gaze again, not being able to look at those knives he had instead of eyes.

“I thought you didn’t like being taken cared of…” he said as he turned completely to her.

She looked at him again and went a few steps closer, standing a few inches from him. He was so beautiful, so tall, so wild…so perfect. How could one resist him? She had tried and she had failed.

“I think I can make an exception for you…” she whispered.

He gazed at her for a long time. His eyes full of unspoken feelings. He tenderly lifted his hand and stroked her hair. Then he caressed her face with his finger and held her chin up. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips as he caressed them with his thumb.

“Leuthil…” he whispered.

“Yes…” she said in a hardy audible tone.

“Do you think it would be bad if I’d…kiss you?” he asked simply, not looking away from her lips.

“No…” she whispered as she closed her eyes.

She felt his warm breath on her face. And then slowly kissed her cheek, and then slowly moved down and finally she felt his lips rest on hers. His fingers grasped her hair and pulled her head closer to him, locking his mouth on hers. She knew she would melt on the floor and she clutched on his shoulders to avoid collapsing. As if he could feel this, his other hand circled around her waist and held her to him. She could feel his lips part and his tongue licking hers, trying to break them apart. Oh how shameless…how lovely.

She found it irresistible as she surrendered. He succeeded and her lips also parted slightly providing an easy entrance for him. She felt she could grow wings on her back when his penetrating tongue entered her mouth and searched for hers. And when their tongues tangled hungrily she was leaning completely on his hand wishing that her heart wouldn’t burst out of her chest. This welcome invasion was too over whelming. The taste of him, the feel of him…irresistible. She let him consume her, taste her, drink her…and he did, with a hungry possessiveness that made her moan in pleasure in his mouth.

It took a long time for them to break apart but Leuthil felt it had been only seconds…her heart was beating fast and she could feel the hot blood rushing through her veins. When Thranduil made sure she could stand on her two feet he slowly released her. He caressed her hair and kissed her again on her temple, taking in the scent of her as if taking his last breath.

“Goodnight my love…” he whispered.

“Goodnight…” she murmured.

 He went out of the door and closed it. “Lock the door…” he called from outside.

She obeyed and when she heard him get on the horse and gone she collapsed on the coach and smiled to herself. The arrogant prince Thranduil had captured her heart after all.

***

Thranduil rode to the palace not really caring where his stallion was taking him. He could still feel the sensation of her body, the softness of her lips, the warmth of her mouth, and her moans of pleasure...that was all he needed to hear. His heart swelled with the thought, and his blood boiled in his veins. He had captured the fleeing doe at last. He turned the stallion towards the riverside.

It was well after midnight when he arrived at the palace. Galion took his horse to the stables. Thranduil went straight to his bed chamber and after a bath he collapsed on his bed, drifting fast into an exhausted sleep.

 

 

“My prince, wake up…”

His eyes jerked open when Galdor shook him hard. The room was dark as it was still night. Galdor left him and lit some candles.

“Galdor…” he said sleepily, blinking to make his vision clear. “What is it?”

“The king wants to see you…”

“At this hour…?”

“Get up my prince… _please,_ get up.”

The urgency in Galdor’s voice left no arguments and he rose. Galdor tossed him a tunic and leggings.

“What’s the problem?” he asked as he began putting the clothes on.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know!” Galdor said suddenly petrified in midair.

“Know what?”

“About the Imlardis guard that has been shot in the evening after we returned from the patrol…” Galdor said.

“What?” Thranduil gasped.

Galdor regarded him with wide eyes for some moments. “You want to tell me that you have nothing to do with this?” he asked with disbelief.

“Galdor what do you mean?” Thranduil said, confused. “Why should I have anything to do with this?”

“Thranduil” Galdor said as he grabbed his shoulder. “The arrow that has shot him had been taken from your quiver…it was a golden royal arrow…everyone thinks you’ve done it.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened even more. “Galdor…I don’t even know what you are talking about…”

“Thranduil there is something else…two other guards of Imlardis have claimed that you’ve picked up a fight with him in the morning…”

Thranduil’s jaw dropped. “ _That_ is the guard that has been shot…”

“Oh Thranduil…” Galdor said horrified. “He’s unconscious, just pray that he wakes or you are in big trouble princeling…come now…hurry…the king is waiting…and he is fuming.”

 

When the doors of the main hall opened Thranduil shivered from seeing all those people staring at him like he was some kind of a dangerous criminal.

Holgailion, Alheru, and Daitrid; his father’s inseparable companions were there along with the two guards of Imlardis he recognized from the morning.

He caught the reproaching glance Alheru and Daitrid gave him and the concerned look on Holgalion’s face; he was the only counselor always in favor of him.

 On the upper part of the room Lord Elrond was standing next to the king who was leaning on his desk, facing away from Thranduil. There were also a few Greenwood guards in the room.

When he approached Lord Elrond studied him with an uncharacteristic frown as if he could squeeze the truth out of him with that glare.

“Majesty…” Thranduil bowed and his father turned to face him. He would’ve turned and ran away in that moment if he could when he saw his father’s face. He could count all the popping veins in the king’s features. His anger radiating.

“My prince…” he said in a dangerously low tone. “Care to tell me about the elf you shot today…”

“My king…” Thradnuil stammered. “I had nothing to do with this…I just heard about the incident from Galdor…”

“INCIDENT?” the king yelled, and his voice echoed in the hall making Thranduil shiver. “One of the guards of my guest is shot and nearly dying by your arrow Thranduil…”

“That arrow was not mine, my king…” Thranduil said firmly.

“It is a golden arrow Thranduil…don’t deny it…” Oropher said as he paced the distance between them. “No one has those arrows accept you, and me!”

“My king, I swear that I have shot no arrow from my quiver today…”

“Perhaps you suggest that I’ve shot him…” Oropher smirked. “These guards have also witness your quarrel with their comrade this morning…perhaps you suggest that they’ve also mistaken you with another…”

“No I do not deny my argument with him…” Thranduil said, looking his father in the eye.

 Lord Elrond raised his eyebrows…and all the lords shifted from this sudden confession.

“Can you tell us the reason of your quarrel with one of my guards, prince Thranduil…?” Elrond asked coldly.

Thranduil hesitated…

“Thranduil you better speak or your situation will just get even worse.” Oropher barked.

“I had a fight with him because he and his companions were bothering one of the ladies of the court…” Thranduil said glancing at the guards.

Elronds eyes darted on the two. “Is this true?”

They just lowered their heads but said nothing.

“You do not deny it?” Oropher barked at the guards. They just shook their heads.

Elrond glared at them. “Do not think that this will be left unpunished.” he woofed at the soldiers.

“Why did you not tell me about this my prince?” Elrond asked Thranduil in a more tender tone.

“Because I knew it would cause them severe punishment…and the lady also asked me not to do so.” he said. “It seems that my mercy was misplaced.”

 

 

 “I know of your over protectiveness, Thranduil…” Oropher said as he could clearly guess who the lady might have been. “All the more reason for you to shoot him…” Oropher said as he shook his head disappointedly.

Thranduil looked him in the eye. “I have not done anything…” he said desperately.

“Then where were you all the evening…?” Oropher asked. “You didn’t even show up for handing in your report…”

Thranduil felt hot blood rush into his face. He couldn’t just drag Leuthil into this mess. Especially when her father was standing there. He couldn’t tell that he had left the patrol to Galdor to escorted her home and had spent a significant amount of time kissing her…he had become victimized in this mess and he had no way out of this question…He knew this was the last shot that would kill him…his father’s poisonous arrow had hit his weak spot…

“I was in the woods…” he murmured as he lowered his gaze, knowing that no one in that hall believed him.

There were some whispers among the lords as they shook their heads. Oropher smirked and came closer. His eyes filled with disappointment and anger. He was now sure his son was guilty, and it was killing him.

“How could you do this…?” he said in a low tone. “All my life I’ve tried to teach you some wisdom, yet I must admit that I have failed…”

Thranduil could feel his pride shattered in front of everyone. He looked up at his father, choking from frustration.

“Father…” he said with clenched teeth. “I have done _nothing_.”

“What kind of a prince are you?” Oropher bellowed, ignoring his words. “Where is your honor? Where is your dignity? The first responsibility of my prince is to look after the people in my borders, not to hurt them…and then you stand in my face and lie about it…Just as you did when you were an elfling! Have you not grown the slightest? You have disappointed me not only as a prince but as son…”

Thranduil closed his eyes for a second, wishing for all of these to be a nightmare. He felt a rock in his throat. His body was shaking…and he was exhausted, exhausted from fighting to prove himself. He felt as if Oropher’s words were daggers that he cut in his flesh over and over again. And the memories of being accused as such ran through him like poison.

 “Majesty…” Elrond said softly. “I do not think that the prince is lying…I really do not think that he’s capable of doing such a thing…”

“Oh he is my lord…” Oropher said, not taking his disgusted look off Thranduil. “I know my own son better than you think…”

Thranduil raised his head. The rush of feelings was too much for him to stay silent.

“ _You_ know _nothing_ …” he bellowed in the king’s face, looking at him with the same disgust.

For a moment everyone was silent.

“My prince…” Galdor whispered as he tried to cool Thranduil down. But he couldn’t stop the flaming prince.

“How can you say _you_ know me?” Thranduil yelled hysterically. “You never talk to me…you never even see me…you know _nothing_ of me…NOTHING!”

“My prince, please…” Galdor interfered louder this time as he feared the end of this chat would be horrible, but Thranduil continued, tears filling his eyes.

 “If you knew me, you would’ve known that I never lied to you, not now, not then…but I don’t care, not anymore…You may believe what you want father…I’m done trying to change your idea of me…I am not a liar, but you are a dreadful parent.”

The hall went dead silent. Everyone was looking at the king to see his reaction. Thranduil could see all the feeling drift away from his father’s eyes, living a cold face. It took him a few seconds to respond. 

“Go to my office, my Prince…” Oropher said in a treacherously soft voice. “Stay there until I’m done here. I shall come and deal with you…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep me motivated with your comments please!!!! I fear that no-one is following this!


	8. Chapter 8

Thranduil gave a slight bow and stormed out of the great hall into the king’s study. He was shaking so hard, from anger and fear. He had said things that he never thought he would. And he knew he would face consequences. His heart was pounding hard, his knees were shaking…and he felt weak.

 A few minutes later Galdor came into the room with long paces.  He directly grabbed the prince’s elbow. “What do you think you’re doing?!!! Are you out of your mind?!!! Do you want to have yourself killed?!!!!” he shook Thranduil with every sentence he yelled. Thranduil couldn’t answer him. “Why did you say those things?” He didn’t know the answer himself. “I was angry…” He whispered.

Galdor’s eyes widened. “Well I can assure you will learn the meaning of _anger_ when the king ends his matters with you. You have tapped a very dangerous vein by talking to the king like that. Do expect the worst by saying those things.” He released his arm and sighed angrily.

The door opened. To Thranduil’s fear and Oropher entered. He wasn’t wearing the cool mask anymore.  Thranduil could clearly see the thick red vein on his forehead. He also noticed the horse whip in his father’s trembling hand.

“Leave us Galdor” Oropher said pressing his teeth “I need to teach _my son_ a lesson.”

Galdor saw all the color drift away from the prince’s face. He could confess that he was also afraid of what the king’s rage would do, specially with that deadly instrument in his hand. Thranduil gave him a look, as if begging him not to leave. 

“Galdor!!!” The king glared at him… “Leave…NOW!!!”

The order was clear and the nightmare began when the door was shut behind the steward.

Oropher slowly came closer; the whip dangerously swinging. It had been a long while since Thranduil was beaten by his father. He could not remember what it was for the last time but he knew it wasn’t really serious and it wasn’t with a horse lash either. He hadn’t tasted this kind of punishment since he was an elfling.  The king’s straight look showed that a very bad night was in the way. Oropher’s eyes were murderous.

“Take off your tunic…” the king said simply.

“My king…please” Thranduil stumbled.

“I said take it off…”

Thranduil looked at Oropher as if not believing what he was seeing. He didn’t want to make him angrier so he took off his tunic, exposing his pale vigorous upper body.

“…and the leggings”

“Father…” Thranduil gasped with wide eyes, feeling his heartbeat rise.

“Take them off…”

Thranduil obeyed, pulling down his leggings with trembling hands. He was thankful for wearing the light under wear he slept in beneath his leggings. He stood there then, as Oropher came closer.

“You have developed a fine body” Oropher said as he ran his hand along Thranduil’s chest. His touch was hard and emotionless. “I wished you could have developed some brain as well…”

Thranduil was silent but he could hear his own heartbeat. He couldn’t recall being this frightened, this embarrassed anytime in his life.

“Bend over the desk…” Oropher ordered.

Thranduil hated himself for shaking so badly. He knew his father hated weak people and he knew that his fear would make Oropher even angrier, if that was even possible.

“Did you not hear me?” The king barked.

“My king…please…you’re blaming the wrong person.” Thranduil said desperately; stepping back.

“BEND OVER” Oropher yelled.

The prince had no choice. He had to taste the bitterness of the truth. He amazed at how history repeated itself. He felt just like the elfling he was many years ago, bending over; waiting for his father’s punishment. And he secretly wept for how innocent he was now as he was then. He turned his back to his father and put his hands on the desk; holding its sides.

He couldn’t see how Oropher was shaking. The king could feel the rage in all his veins. He felt he would burst into flames. He felt so disappointed, so tired of fighting his rebellious son. He wished that he could be a normal father of a normal family…but he was the king, and his son couldn’t act like this…

 “Tell me why you are being punished…”

Thranduil’s blood boiled by being treated like and elfling...

“I don’t know…” Thranduil said stubbornly.

The rage moving in the king’s body was at last driven to the lash by Thranduil’s last words and he raised it and hit it hard on his son’s back, releasing his anger on his son’s bare body…he needed Thranduil to learn manners, he needed him to become responsible…If Thranduil wouldn’t obey him out of respect, Oropher had to make him obey out of fear…

Thranduil could not digest the pain; the burn that ran inside him. He had not yet taken the first hit in when the second followed, and then the third and then the fourth…the pain that ran through his body was not tolerable. But he didn’t make a sound. With each hit he firmed his grip on the desk as he didn’t want to show signs weakness. He had lost counts on the hits. It had to be on twenty now.

“You’re being punished for your mindless acts…for embarrassing me…” Oropher yelled as he lashed him even harder, making his body grow red and then turn to dark bruises.

“AAAi…” Thranduil finally cried as his skin burst open; blood flowing from it.

 But it was not the end. It seemed that the flaming king was not about to stop so soon. The lash was now hitting his legs and stomach too as the king did not care on what angle he was bellowing. Thranduil couldn’t do this much longer. He was now crying loud in agony with each hit, tears running down his face, his hands were also bleeding from the firm grip on the desk.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” “How dare you embarrass me…?”

Thranduil could barely hear his father as all he could feel was pain and the salt of his own tears. He cried and dropped on the floor in pain when the lash hit his groin. “Father…father…please…” he wept as he huddled himself to receive more blows.

 After at least a hundred hits Oropher dropped the lash. Thranduil was relieved that the punishment was over, but the Elvenking was too furious. Before Thranduil could collapse on the floor Oropher pulled his hair and turned him to himself. Then he back handed him in the face so hard that the prince fell to the floor, hitting a wooden chair hard with his chest. He heard the cracking sound his bones made but Thranduil nor had the ability or the courage to defend himself against his father who was now leaning on him, hitting him with anything that was near. The prince knew he wouldn’t survive that aggression if it took a second longer. He crawled on the floor begging his father to stop, blood dripping from him.

“Please father … please stop….I can’t…please” he sobbed as he clenched his father’s boots.

Oropher no longer knew what he was doing. Thranduil had made him so angry, so shameful. He could not bear how he was weak when it came to his son, how he had failed so hard as a father. Long he had tried to master this son of his and had failed…The rage that had taken over Oropher was the anger buried inside him for years. He continued his blows on him as Thranduil released his boots and pulled himself against the wall, huddling himself from his mindless punishment.

 “Oropher stop it …stop it.”

This was Elrond that had suddenly entered the room with Galdor. They had felt the need to interfere as the sounds coming from the chamber were getting too horrific. He threw himself between the king and the prince and he grabbed Oropher and pushed him back. The king hit his back on the wall but the rage was too strong he struggled to attack his son again, whom was half conscious and covered in blood.

“Oropher stop it…you’ll kill him…YOU WILL KILL HIM…” Elrond yelled.

Fortunately he felt the king gradually calm a bit. Despite his stern behavior, Elrond had never seen any violence in Oropher against anyone; specially his own family…the lord of Imlardis couldn’t help being startled.

“Get out of here” Oropher yelled at Thranduil…

Thranduil tried to move as he had wished to be dismissed for a long time now but he couldn’t. The pain was too severe for him to move.

“Get him out of my sight…GET OUT...GET HIM _OUT_ ”

 

Galdor had never been happier from any other order as he became delighted by this furious one. He ran towards the fainting prince, took of his own robe and covered his slashed skin.

“Get up Thranduil…” He whispered. He helped him stand; leaning most of his weight on Galdor. And he took him away to his chamber. When they vanished in the corridors Elrond slowly let go of Oropher.

“There was no need for this…” he said in a low tone. “You could’ve waited for my guard to awaken…”

But Oropher’s mind was not there. When he didn’t get an answer from the king, Elrond turned and went out of the door, leaving the king alone in the chaotic room; along with a mixture of anger and sorrow while his hands were covered by the blood of his own son.

***

Galdor pulled Thranduil out of the king’s chamber. The cloak he had pulled over him was soaked with blood now.

“Galion, give me a hand…” He barked at the butler who had panicked after seeing the prince like this. Galion ran to the prince and grabbed one shoulder.  Thranduil moaned from pain.

 “I know my prince, I know it hurts…but we have to get you to your chamber.” Galdor said as a caring father. Thranduil just moaned again in pain.

When they lay the prince on his bed Galion immediately ran to bring warm water. Galdor pulled of the cloak, and when he saw the wounds he couldn’t help his disgust towards the king.

“Oh Thranduil…” he said mournfully. “Why do you have to be so bold…?”

Thranduil was now moaning continuously as the pain was getting worst, gripping the blanket and the pillow. Galion finally came back. Galdor pulled the basin forward and soaked a piece of cloth inside the hot water. He couldn’t leave Thranduil in Galion’s hands. “This is going to hurt my prince…forgive me.”

When the cloth touched his skin Thranduil jumped in agony. “Please…please don’t.” he begged.

“Thranduil, I need to clean this…”

“Please…it hurts…I can’t do this” he cried while struggling to get up and run away with all that was left from his strength.

 Galdor kept him there and nearly yelled: “Thranduil, Thranduil…please…we need to clean your scars. That lash was used on _horses_ … You’ll get infections…”

Thranduil seemed to be drained out of strength. Galdor used this and gently started to clean the slashed skin. His heart broke when he saw that the prince only dug his head in the sheets and he could see that his body was shaking and he knew he was sobbing quietly. He had never seen Thranduil weep before. Galion exchanged a worried look with Galdor before he brought clean pieces of cloth to him.

Galdor had nearly finished bandaging the wounds with the white clean cloth when Elrond knocked and entered the room.

He looked at the prince pitifully and then turned to Galdor. “How is he?”

Galdor just shook his head.

Elrond gazed at Thranduil again. If he had truly shot his guard, this punishment was a just …but how could a father do this to his son with his own hands? He also had a strangely bad feeling that Thranduil was innocent in all of this.

“Sire, this herb will take the prince into a deep sleep.” He said as he gave Galdor a huge glass of a drink which smelled strange. “You need to get him to sleep or the pain would make him suffer badly…”

Together Galion and Galdor helped Thranduil drink it. The prince frowned and groaned but did not put up much a fight as he was exhausted. It was amazing how his breathing became heavier and he slowly drifted into a very deep sleep.

“It’s good, he needs to rest…” Galdor whispered. “Thank you my lord…”

“I’m sorry that I’ve caused this…I feel that your prince is innocent.” Elrond said bitterly.

“Do not blame yourself my lord…” Galdor said. “You were just caught up in a very old family drama.”

Elrond nodded. “Are you going to inform the queen…?” he asked. “I fear the prince will be experiencing a terrible fever tomorrow.”

“I will inform the queen…” Galdor said. “Perhaps her majesty can comfort him…”

“He has a friend like you…” Elrond smiled. “That’s all he needs for now…”

Galdor smiled back as Elrond tapped him on the shoulder. He gave a last glace to the sleeping prince.

“Sleep my prince, things will be better in the morning.” He said softy and then he closed the door.

***

“Adar!” Leuthil rushed to the door. “Why did you come so late? I was worried!”

Alheru took of his robe off and kissed his daughter on the cheek.

“I got held up in the palace…” he said. “The king nearly killed his son tonight.”

“What?!” Leuthil gasped. “Why? What happened?”

“Apparently he has shot one of the guards of Imlardis…he’s been seen picking up a fight with him, and then he has shot him sometime after sunset.” Alheru said, taking off his boots. “The rogue said the guard had bothered one of the ladies of the court, as if everyone is fool…he has nearly killed the poor fellow and denies it.” Alheru shook his head pitifully as he took off his boots.

“Ada…” Leuthil gasped. “He’s not lying…”

Alheru raised his head, surprised.

“I was the one whom those guards were bothering…” she said. Alheru rose from his seat, startled. “The prince reached there just in time to stop them…”

“When did this happen?” Alheru said angrily.

“In the morning…” she said. “And after that Thranduil went on his patrol…”

 Alheru thought for a second. “Then he must’ve done this after he returned from the patrol, as the guard had been shot sometime in the evening…”

“Ada that’s impossible…” She protested. “He was with me all the evening.”

Alheru raised his eyebrows even further making Leuthil feel the need to explain.

“He saw me in the forest when he was returning from the patrol, he left his group and accompanied me home, as he was worried from the morning events…it was impossible for him to reach the palace before midnight…”

Alheru frowned. He didn’t like the idea of the prince accompanying his daughter home, but that was not his chief concern right now.

“So he was saying the truth…” he whispered.

“What did the king do ada?” Leuthil asked concerned.

Alheru looked at her for a second not knowing what to say. He knew how bad she would feel if she would know what the king had done…

“The king did not believe him... and Thranduil got a bit on edge and said things that fueled the king’s anger…” Alheru said and his voice broke.

“Then what?” Leuthil said impatiently. “Ada, what did the king do?”

“Thing got out of hand too fast dear…the king disciplined him severely...” he whispered. “I must say, it was too violent…even for Oropher.”

Leuthil just stared at him for a while, then without a word he grabbed her robe and began putting on her shoes.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Alheru said startled by the sudden acts.

“To the palace, I need to tell the king what I know…”

“Leuthil, you cannot change anything now…”

“I can clear Thranduil from these lies…he was with me, he couldn’t have done anything.”

“Leuthil…” Alheru said firmly. “I will not let you go in the forest at this time of night!”

“Then grab your robe and come with me ada…” she said heatedly as she walked out the door.

 

 

An hour later Leuthil reached the palace with his exhausted father. It was hours passed midnight and she became happy to hear that the king was still awake. The guard at the door announced her visit and she was allowed in the king’s office.

 

Then king’s study was chaotic. One could easily guess that a severe fight had taken place there. Everything was broken. A horse lash that had been thrown on the chair and the blood on the floor made Leuthil’s heart swell. The king was sitting behind his desk, holding his head in his hands. When Leuthil entered he looked up.

 

Definitely Thranduil had inherited his beauty from Oropher as well as his golden hair and masculine features. Yet Oropher had emotionless grey eyes, unlike Thradnuil’s oceans of feelings.

 

“Majesty…” she said and curtsied slightly.

“Lady Leuthil” he said. “I believe it’s an important matter that has driven you here at this hour…”

“Yes your majesty…” she said, not feeling really brave in front of the king. “It is about lord Thranduil.”

The king frowned. “What about him?”

“My father said that he was accused of hurting one of the guards of Imlardis.” Leuthil said. “I wanted to say that he’s not lying and they were in fact bothering your subjects…the person they were bothering was me…”

“I know it was you lady Leuthil, it’s not hard to guess as the incident has made my son so mad that he has shoot the fellow.” Oropher said bored.

Leuthil shifted as she was feeling very uncomfortable under the king’s gaze.

“There is something else my lord…” she said. “Lord Thranduil has not shot the guard, he couldn’t have…”

“Why not?” Oropher interrupted as he leaned on his elbows.

“Because his grace was with me all through the evening; he left his patrol near the palace and accompanied me home. When he left our house it was nearly midnight…” she said gravely. “And I heard that the guard was found a little after sunset.”

Leuthil saw Oropher’s eyes widened, fear filling him. “Lady Leuthil, are you not saying this just to clear my son from the fault?”

“My lord why should I do this…?” Leuthil protested. “What do I get in return…? Besides, Lord Galdor saw us leave together.”

Oropher was silent for a long while. Leuthil felt she could hear his mind working, digesting the information.

There was a knock on the door and lord Holgailion entered, looking uncharacteristically exhausted and disheveled.

“My king, good news…the guard has awaken…” he said with a faint smile.

Oropher rose to his feet. “Good” he said. “Has he seen his attacker?”

The smile faded from the lord’s face.

 “He said that he has not seen his face as he had been wearing a hood. But he also indicated that the attacker had not been very tall, and he has seen his dark hair.” Holgailion said. “That clears the prince my king.”

It was as if the entire world had collapsed on the king’s head. He was petrified for a few seconds before he rubbed his eyes and threw himself on his chair covering his face; guilt filling up inside him. He had watched his son cry out the truth and had not listened to him. How could he be so blind? How could he be so unjust? How could he be so deaf, not hearing the truth his son has been saying tonight and all these years…?

“Holgailion…” he said angrily. “Send Miklovand to my office first thing tomorrow…and assure lord Elrond that we will follow the matter until we find the person responsible.”

“I will my lord…anything else you would be needing tonight?”

“How is Thranduil?” he whispered.

Holgailion hesitated. “The prince is not in a good shape my lord…” he said uneasily. “Lord Galdor said he has many scars and possibly a few broken ribs, and he’s in pain…”

Leuthil felt she could collapse right there. It was as if she could feel his pain. How could a father do this to a son? How heartbroken had he become? Everyone knew the king did not approve of his son in many ways, and everyone knew that he had punished him in many sorts of ways all his life but the word _violence_ her father had used was becoming more meaningful… She felt the sudden need to go to him, embrace him…kiss his pain away.

“But they were able to drug him into sleep my king…” Holgailion finished his tale.

Leuthil could swear she saw a flash of tears in Oropher’s eyes but a moment later there was nothing.

“Is Galdor with him?”

“Yes my lord…her majesty was also informed and she’s also there.”

“Good, He’ll be alright with having those he loves around him…” Oropher said looking at his hands. “Tell Galdor not to leave his side…”

“I will my lord…”

“You may leave Holgailion…”

The lord bowed and left the chamber. Leuthil looked at the king, not knowing if she was also dismissed. She needed to get out of that room, where she could clearly see what horrible things had happened in it not hours ago.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, my lady. I know you’ve come a long way to do so …” Oropher said. “Truth is a thing rarely heard when you’re a king…”

“I’m sorry that it was too late…if only I had known sooner…”

“Do not blame yourself…” Oropher interrupted as he stood. “No one is to be blamed but me…I judged my son harshly… and now it seems that I’ve pushed him away even further…”

“I think you can still find a way to remove this distance…” she said.

“Perhaps…” Oropher whispered. “I think I know who might be responsible for this…I’ve been blind for years and now I see it…I’ll deal with this in the morning…if  only for Thranduil’s sake.”

Oropher came closer and picked Leuthil’s chin up, making her look in his eyes. Her heart sank inside her. Oropher’s eyes were as piercing as Thranduil’s. The same power radiated from those pupils, but while Thranduil’s eyes were filled with freshness of youth; Oropher’s were weary from years and years of hardship.

“I can clearly see why my son is so fond of you…” he smiled.

Leuthil smiled. “You’re most kind your majesty…”

 “Go now…it’s late.” He said as he released her chin.

She curtsied and left the sorrowful king alone with his thoughts.

Running down the stairs she caught the sight of the queen coming out of a room.

“My lady…” she reached her panting.

“Leuthil!” the queen was startled to see her. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

“How is prince Thranduil?” she asked ignoring her question.

The queen pressed her lips together before she answered bitterly. “He’s sleep now…” she said. “He’ll be better in a few days.”

Leuthil could see that the queen was trying so hard to control herself. Clearly it wasn’t easy for her to watch her husband and son struggle all these years, and it was horrible enough to see her only son in this shape. Leuthil envied her strength for a moment.

“What can I do my lady?” she asked.

“Go home dear, it’s late…” the queen said smiling. “All will be better in the morning…”

 


	9. Chapter 9

_Cold…rain…exhaustion…that was all the little elfling could feel. His small feet couldn’t take another step. His heavy eyelids were almost closed. He felt dizzy…sick…fainting…burning in fever. He looked at the group of elves following his father’s lead. They were all almost the same. Their feet were buried deep in mud which made walking even harder. They were all soaked with rain and dirt._

_“Thranduil…”_

_He heard Galdor’s voice but couldn’t answer. The sounds and visions around him seemed to blur._

_“My lord…my lord your son…”_

_He hit the ground. He would probably drown in the mud but he didn’t care. He just needed to sleep._

_When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining. Strong hands were holding him; his father’s. When he looked up he smiled at him._

_“Someone decided to wake up!” Oropher teased as he shifted his son in his arms. They were camping on the edge of a massive forest which later became their home._

_“Look ion-nin…” Oropher said pointing at the forest. “The hard days are over…we’ve reached our new home…”_

_The elfling said nothing. He just buried his head in his father’s hair, the only safe home he had known in his life. The adult watched his fragile little child for a few moments as he caressed his fine golden hair._

_“Thranduil…” Oropher called. “I’ve made something for you…”_

_The elfling felt his heartbeat rise. It wasn’t every day that his father would have the time and free mind to make anything for him. He raised his head as Oropher opened a piece of cloth and handed a small wooden horse to him. To his delight the child smiled immediately, grabbing the fine toy with his little hands._

_Oropher kissed his elfling many times as the little one was engaged with the simple toy he had carved from wood._

_“You scared me by fainting like that…my spring…my vigorous spring…” he said and held his son even tighter. “The days of running away are over…we’re home.”_

 

The rays of the sun attacked Thranduil’s sleepy eyes as Galdor opened the shutters.

“Whoaaa…you’re blinding me …” he nagged as he sat on his bed.

“Good morning to you too!” Galdor said, chuckling at the prince who was trying to cover his face under the blanket. 

Three days had passed. Three days of nightmare. But now all was better. Thranduil had almost recovered after struggling with a night of burning fever. He didn’t remember things very clearly as he was drugged too many times by strange herbs, he remembered his father though. He had come some time during that night he was burning in fever. Thranduil had caught the sight of him before being drugged to sleep again. Or perhaps he had just hallucinated.

 

“Come…get out of your misery bed!” Galdor said as he pulled the blanket of his head. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine…” Thranduil murmured as he got out of bed.

“Good” Galdor smiled. “I’ve made the bath ready for you…”

“Galdor, why do you do all these?” Thranduil protested. “You’re not my butler…where is Galion?”

“I thought you need a friend more than a butler.” Galdor said irritated.

Thranduil just gazed at him for moments. There were no words he could say in gratitude. He had known this elf since childhood. He remembered a day in the woods when Galdor swore that he would never leave his side. They were only elflings then…but he had been true to his word. Although being a commoner from a poor crowded family, he had been a brother to him more than anyone in the world…

 

“You’re not my friend…” he said tapping Galdor on the shoulder. “You’re my brother…”

Galdor smiled at that. He was slightly older than Thranduil. They had been childhood pals…and adulthood friends. He remembered the days when they played together as elflings, rolling on the grass, running through the trees, free from care. He remembered the day Thranduil asked him to stay with him forever. He had been a child. But he knew it now as he knew it then, that he could never leave this prince. This master, friend, brother…Thranduil was his to take care of…and he would die for him.

 

After Thranduil came out of the bath, Galdor dressed him in the dark blue tunics he had chosen for him. Then he dried his hair and began braiding it. Normally Thranduil would protest sometime in the process, and he would stop him, taking the matter in his own hand. But today he was different. He sat there passively, not saying a word; letting Galdor enjoy pampering him. His hair was soft in his hand, a pure gold. Galdor sometimes found himself envying Galion. He wished he could appreciate this beauty everyday like this.

 

“Lady Leuthil came many times…” Galdor said, judging Thranduil’s reaction in the mirror. “She was quite worried about you…she came in the middle of the night to inform the king about your innocence.”

Thranduil smiled at that.

“I think she’s finally enchanted…” Galdor winked.

Thranduil chuckled.

“You need to go to her today…” Galdor continued seriously.

“What’s wrong?” Thranduil said as he caught the gravity in Galdor’s voice.

“I overheard some of the court ladies yesterday.” Galdor said trying to inject the information slowly. “I believe Lord Lenor has proposed to her…”

“WHAT?” Thranduil jumped. “That’s impossible…she can’t just…I mean…what has she answered? She hasn’t accepted has she?”

“I don’t know Thranduil…I really don’t know!” Galdor said trying to make Thranduil sit down again.

The prince rubbed his eyes and sighed as he sat back. “She cannot do this…” he whispered.

“Why can’t she? With all due respect my prince, she has every right to choose her future husband…and you are not a proper one!”

“I kissed her Galdor…”

 

Years later when Thranduil remembered Galdor’s face in that moment, he would still chuckle. His eyes became the size of a plate, and his mouth dropped open.

“And she kissed me back…” Thranduil said proudly. “I must say it was pretty passionate…”

It took Galdor a few moments to respond again.

“Well…in that case…” he said engaging himself again with Thranduil’s hair. “I really can’t predict what her answer has been to Lenor…”

Thranduil nodded and there was minutes of silence before the prince spoke again.

“What news of the king?” he said as if talking about a very inedible food.

Galdor hesitated. “His majesty came to you…you had a high fever, I don’t think you remember.”

“I remember…” Thranduil said. “I remember him entering my room but nothing else…”

“His majesty came, and he sent everyone away…he stayed with you for some hours…until your fever cooled down a bit.” Galdor said.

“I think he had just come to see if his punishment has been severe enough …” Thranduil smirked. “If you think the news of my innocence has tapped his conscious, you’re wrong…his conscious is reserved for his other subjects, it dries out when it comes to me…”

 

“What a _monster_ he is!”

Oropher’s voice made both them jump. The king was standing in the doorway, wearing his regal robes and a circlet, showing his authority. But his eyes were tired. Galdor immediately let go of Thranduil’s hair and bowed. Thranduil did not move; he just looked away from his father.

Oropher did not seem offended by this boorishness as he gazed at his son for a few moments.

“I take my leave…My lords…” Galdor bowed again and left the room, closing the door behind him.

 

There were long moments of silence as the king continued studying the prince who had suddenly grown very interested in the view of the woods from his window.

His son had grown. His little elfling had turned into a splendid beauty and he had never realized that. It seemed that he had been awaken from a long dream and had seen his son for the first time; his golden hair, his pale face, his aquamarine eyes that resembled his mother’s. So fair, so beautiful…yet so vulnerable. Thranduil was very similar to him, and it scared the king.

“Can I come in?” he asked, not sounding like a king at all.

“It’s your realm.” Thranduil said without looking at him. “It’s not like I can stop you…”

Oropher sighed and came closer. He paced the room slowly, studying it. This had been Thranduil’s room since they first settled in the palace, though it had changed during the long years. Leaning on the wall was Thranduil’s bow and quiver, along with his swords that had been untouched for the last few days. On one of the walls were sketches of the forest that Thranduil had drew on the wall with burned wood. Oropher had reproached him so much for what he called _ruining the wall_. The sun had lit Thranduil’s desk. There were many objects on it but what caught the king’s attention was a wooden horse made by his own hands, long ago. The trace of long years had made the wood a bit dark, looking very old. One would easily guess it belonged to centuries passed…and faded memories.

“I didn’t know you’re still keeping this…” Oropher whispered.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know…” Thranduil said bitterly. “ _’My few good memories with you’_ is one of them…”

Oropher studied the horse for moments before he placed it back. He felt that the person, who had carved that marvelous toy out of wood, had died inside him long ago. The flood of kingly responsibilities had drowned that person. He picked up a chair and sat in front of his son. Thranduil was looking at him now; straight in the eye. The king suddenly realized he preferred him to look away as his betrayed look pierced his heart.

“As it appears, you are cleared from all the accusations.” He said gaining his stern mask back.

“I know…” Thranduil smirked. “The truth eventually comes out…it always does…if you had just waited a few hours…”

“I judged you harshly…” Oropher said dropping his gaze. “And I regret it…”

Thranduil elicited a fake open mouth and wide eyes. “The mighty king Oropher _regrets_ …that’s not something we see every day!” he said sarcastically.

Oropher opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by Thranduil.

“You know I am not hurt by your mindless violence…” he said bluntly. “I am hurt because you believed everyone around you, but me.”

The king was wordless. He knew he had been wrong. He knew he had hurt his son. But when Thranduil said it out loud, he felt his heart bleed out inside him.

“I know who am I, father…I am rude, I am hotheaded, I’m reckless…and I am far away from being satisfactory … I am the useless son of a powerful king …” Thranduil continued, not trying to hide the shake in his voice. “But I _never_ gave you a reason to call me a _liar_.”

Oropher lowered his gaze…

“I did terrible things all my life but I _never_ lied to you…” Thranduil said, choking with sorrow.

“You’re right…” Oropher whispered. “I was wrong…”

There were a few moments of silence. Oropher’s admitting to his fault not only did not make Thranduil calmer but it pierced his heart even more. He knew his father as unbreakable; the one who never made a mistake, and when he did, he never accepted it. He couldn’t tolerate this sudden weakness in Oropher. He had changed from the compassionate father he once was to a stern king…but this weakness did not suit him.

 

“What happened to us my king?” Thranduil murmured. “When did we drift apart like this?”

“From the moment you learned to call me _my_ _king_ instead of _ada_ …” Oropher whispered as a bitter smile shaped on his face.

 Thranduil sighed and covered his face with his hands. Oropher’s heart was torn to pieces. Thranduil had not even once complained about his harsh behavior, not even once whined about the pain he’d caused him. Clearly his broken heart had hurt him far more than all the violence. Oropher stretched his hand to caress his son’s hair…to calm him. But Thranduil jerked back. “Don’t touch me…” he barked, looking at his father wildly. “I don’t need your pity…”

 

All was lost for Oropher…he had lost his son…he knew it…he had brainlessly cut off the tiny robes that still attached them…he sat back on the chair, watching how he had failed as a father. Watching the loneliness he had caused for his son and for himself…the darkness they were both drowning in.

 

“I have a mission for you…” he said changing the subject. “I need a group of scouts to set out from the capital for a secret mission…I was hoping you would accept the task.”

“What secret mission?” Thranduil asked, distracted.

“I need you to search all the realm… see if you can find a place in which we can build a stronghold…”

“A stronghold?”

Oropher nodded. “The shadow is growing in the south. We cannot linger here. Not more than a couple of years. I know I will be forced to move the people again…I do not want to put it for the last minute.”

“So we’re escaping again…” Thranduil said bitterly.

“When we cannot fight it…we run from it…” Oropher said matter-of –factly.

Thradnuil thought for some moments. “You have lots of more talented captains to send…why me?”

“This is a secret mission and a very important one…” Oropher indicated. “I can trust no one with it but my own family…no one knows about this, not even my closest advisors.”

A few moments passed before Thranduil responded.

“Alright…I’ll do it…” Thranduil said finally.

“Good” Oropher clapped his hands as he rose. “Elrond will be leaving tomorrow, I need your party to escort him to our borders and then you can start scouting from the edge of the land…I need you to come back to the capital every 2 or 3 months for reports...I don’t want letters to be sent. It’s dangerous.”

Thranduil nodded. “What about my own patrol around the capital?”

“Miklovand will take care of that.” Oropher said. “I talked to him about it…”

“So you gave my position to him…” Thranduil smirked resentfully. “I had fought hard for the spot you handed to him so easily…” 

“Thranduil…” Oropher said firmly. “I’m trying to keep him away from you…if you are right and he’s truly trying to hurt you, or put distance between us…then I am the only one who can protect you from him...please, let me do so…and try to understand…I am doing this for you…not for him.”

Thranduil felt the loaded sorrow in his heart slightly lessen. If his father believed what he had tried to tell him all these years, the suffering of the last days had been worth it. He just nodded then.

Oropher smiled and went to the door but before leaving he turned again.

“Thranduil, this time away will be good for you…I’ve kept you captive of the capital too long… you’ll be free from the palace’s restrictions for some time.” he said. “You can clear your mind and perhaps someday…you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me…”

Thranduil looked up at his father, the iron mountain he had challenged so many times and had fail each time without exception; The ellon that had been his compassionate father when he was an elfling; the cold king that never showed him plain love since the moment he grew up. The unbreakable was now standing there in front of him…hoping that someday, he, his son, would forgive him.

“Perhaps” Thranduil whispered after long moments.

 Oropher smiled again bitterly and went out, closing the door behind him.

***

There was a knock on the door.

“Enter…” the queen said and she was surprised to see Thranduil open the door. Her son usually did not visit her at these hours of the day. He looked better. There were no physical traces of the punishment on him anymore, at least not while he was wearing a tunic. And he stood straight as always.

“Thranduil” the queen smiled as she put away the parchment she was reading.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Thranduil said softly.

“Of course dear…come, sit with me.” she pointed at the seat in front of her.

 

Thranduil obeyed. It took him a few moments to bring his matter forward and queen Harma waited patiently for him to review his sentences. This was the thing with Harma. Unlike his father who became impatient with him so fast, his mother would wait an eternity for him to purge his thoughts; knowing that he wasn’t so good at talking about his matters. Galdor had always called him a mother-boy and he was right indeed.

“Naneth…I was wondering if you know about lord Lenor proposing to lady Leuthil?”

Harma thought for a second before responding. “I’ve heard about it…Aleth told me the other day…”

Thranduil dropped his gaze. A deep sadness shadowed over him. Lenor definitely had Alheru’s approval. And this was half the way.

“What’s wrong Thranduil…?” Harma smiled. “Has the news upset you…?”

“Did Aleth happen to mention Leuthil’s answer to the proposal?” Thranduil crocked, ignoring her question.

“No dear…she didn’t”

“Alright…” Thranduil sighed as he stood.” Thank you naneth”

 

“Thranduil there is a feast tonight, for Elrond’s departure…” Harma said hastily.

“I thought the king didn’t like the Noldor…how is it that he cherishes the lord so much!” Thranduil said sarcastically.

“He dislikes him the same, but It’s politics Thranduil…” Harma said patiently. “And you are expected to be there…”

“Alright mother…I’ll be there…” he said as he kissed her cheek.

Thranduil went for the door but was stopped when the queen called him again.

“Lady Leuthil will be there too…perhaps you should talk to her yourself if you intent to stop her.”

Thranduil went out without answering.

***

The feast was merry as always. Marvelous music, food and heavy wine were all around. Thranduil came on time, he sat beside his father, he chatted, he danced; he did all the courtly duties of a prince in the feast, but his eyes never left the slender elleth in golden robes.

 Leuthil had come alone. But she was engaged in several conversations with Lenor. Thranduil felt hot blood pumped through his veins. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, taking deep breaths. When he turned his eyes from the hurting scene he caught Elrond’s meaningful smile. The lord leaned forward.

“Are you losing the lady, my prince?” He asked openly, but with a friendly tone.

“I guess!” Thranduil said sipping from the wine angrily as if it had insulted him.

“Well as you will leave tomorrow to escort me you don’t have much time to win her back, do you?” Elrond said mischievously his eyes following Leuthil who was leaving the feast for the courtyard. “No one will notice you leave the royal table now…by all means, go fetch your girl before it’s too late…”

Thranduil looked at him doubtfully. Then he took a last sip from the wine and rose.

 

 

Leuthil walked until she reached beside the pool. She sat on a branch, not caring that her beautiful dress would be ruined. She had tried to talk to Thranduil for three days now, but he had refused to see anyone…not even her. And Lenor’s timing had been horrible…then the news of Thranduil’s near departure had reached her by Aleth…she was a mess, torn between feelings. On one side was Lenor who had her father’s approval, but on the other was the love she had never hoped to find in anyone; though the bond was still fragile.

 

“You’ll ruin your beautiful dress sitting on that branch…”

She didn’t turn to his cold voice…cold, lovely voice…she was upset with him. He had made her fall for him and the he had left her…refusing her.

Thranduil sat beside her, but with a significant distance. Leuthil studied him for a long time; his noble brow, his dark eyebrows, the strong nose, fantastic jaw line…she caught the sight of a scar on his neck where the collar of his tunic was loose. He immediately pulled the collar up and covered it from her gaze. There were long moments of silence until Leuthil broke it.

“I came to see you a few times…” she murmured.

“Yes, Galdor told me…” He said politely. “I appreciate your concern…forgive me, I wasn’t in a state to see anyone…”

“I understand…” she nodded. Though she had been heartbroken just that unconvincing explanation calmed her a bit as she wanted to forgive him so much.

There was silence again. This time Thranduil broke it.

“I heard about lord Lenor’s proposal…” he said and dropped his gaze, counting the fish in the pool.

Leuthil sighed but said nothing. Thranduil waited, but when Leuthil did not respond he continued.

“My congratulations…” he said coldly.

Leuthil smirked. “He’s a fine match as my father thinks…”

“He is indeed…” Thranduil said, trying so hard to keep his voice steady. “He’s a cultivated lord…and he has your father’s approval…” Then he stood up impatiently to leave, feeling that he would burst into flames if he stayed a minute longer.

“He has my father’s approval…yet my adar is not the type of a person to force me into a marriage without affection.” She said as she also rose.

Thranduil looked at her for the first time then. His eyes were full of doubt and despair.

 

“I cannot accept Lenor’s proposal, it will be cruel to him and to me to marry him when my heart lies elsewhere.” Leuthil continued.

 

“Where does your heart lie?” Thranduil asked bluntly, yet innocently.

Leuthil took her time studying him before she answered. He was a disaster…he was the most beautiful disaster…this handsome princeling was _her_ beautiful catastrophe…and she wouldn’t change him with all the perfection in the world.

“A spoiled, arrogant prince will take my heart with him, with his departure tomorrow…” she smiled sadly.

Thranduil turned his face to her with wide eyes; filled with disbelief. “You refused his offer?”

“Of course I did!” She said matter-of –factly. “I wouldn’t risk his life; you would’ve killed him anyway if I had accepted.”

Thranduil would’ve chuckled at that truth but he was too breathless even for that. He just managed a smile which sounded more like a gasp. Leuthil chuckled at his sheepish face.

“I can’t believe you were threatened by Lenor!” she laughed.

“I wasn’t threatened…” he protested, suddenly gaining his arrogant features back. “I just doubted your selecting skills…”

Leuthil rolled her eyes and gave in to the need of his closeness. She went closer and hugged him casually. He was so tall, slender with broad shoulders. He smelled like the breeze in the spring nights. Her face was on his chest when she hugged her. When she circled her hands around his chest, he hissed from pain.

“Watch for the ribs my lady…” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

She knew better than to ask about the nights before. He would bring it up if he wanted. When they broke, he cupped her face and kissed her. Her heart swelled, and she felt her insides fall to the ground. This time Thranduil didn’t have to put such an effort to invade her mouth and their kiss intensified as he circled his hand around her waist, pulling her to him tightly. He ravished her mouth hungrily, drinking the essence of life from her. They broke soon enough as he embraced her tightly again, ignoring the pain that flashed on his side.

“I love you…” she whispered. She could feel him smile as he tightened his arms around her even more. “Don’t break my heart, alright?”

“I won’t.” He whispered. “I promise…”

They held each other like that for a long time before they broke apart.

“I wanted to use my father’s mission to run away from the capital…” he said with a smile, stroking her hair out of her face tenderly. “Now I see I need to come back sooner each time for my girl back home…”

“That will be nice...I do not enjoy waiting.” Leuthil said as she took his hand and they walked back to the feast together.

***

“Everyone is ready for departure…” Galdor said. “We are just waiting for lord Elrond and his company to come down.”

“Good...” Thranduil said absentmindedly. “I’ll join you in a few moments.”

“Something else…” Galdor said with a chuckle. “Her majesty has asked me to…paint a portrait of you.”

Thranduil was startled but then he laughed. “My mother clearly has faith in your artistic abilities…”

Galdor chuckled again humbly.

“Though it has to wait until we return back permenantly…” Thranduil said. “I don’t believe you can carry your canvas with you…”

Galdor nodded, still chuckling.

He then left. Thranduil fixed his bow on his back, gave the room another look and went out.

 He knew where to find her. She would be in Aleth’s chambers at this time of the day; weaving or perhaps studying with his sister. When he reached his sister’s room the door was half open. He could see the inside and he noticed Leuthil, sitting on a stool behind the desk, in front of the mirror, reading a book. And she was alone. She was magnificent. He just stood there in the shadows, drinking the sight of her.

 

“Picking on a lady when she’s not aware…” She said, smiling at him in the mirror. “Your manners are very poor my prince…”

He smirked and entered the room. “Aleth’s not here?”

“No…your lady sister went to fetch a book from the library…” she said as she stood and turned towards him. 

He merely nodded. Leuthil studied him for a while. He was wearing a green traveling suit. He had his quiver and bow on his back which made him look even taller and his black tight leggings displayed his long well formed legs.

 

“You’re here for goodbye then…” She smiled.

He nodded again. “Turn around…” He said tenderly.

 

She frowned but then she obeyed, looking at him in the mirror. At first she didn’t recognize the jewel he took out of his pocket, but when he placed it around her neck she gasped by seeing her mother’s compass necklace.

 

“Oh Thranduil…” she said breathlessly, tears filling her eyes as she touched the little compass.

“I found it by the river that night…it was broken.” he said kissing her neck. “I fixed it …”

She turned around and looked him in the eye, not knowing what to say.

“Thank you…” she finally managed with a hardly audible tone. “You’ve given me the world.”

Thranduil smiled and kissed her temple and then he embraced her tightly.

“Will you miss me while off on your secret mission?” She said seductively when they broke.

“I will…” he chuckled at her tone.

“Then promise me that you’ll hurry back…”

“I promise…” he said as he leaned his head to claim a passionate kiss.

 

“Ehem!”

They jumped apart by Aleth clearing her throat. Leuthil blushed but Thranduil merely smiled. “Good morning sister…”

“Good morning brother…perhaps I should leave you to your…smooch!” she said and made Leuthil blush even more.

“No need…” Thranduil chuckled. “I was about to leave.”

He caressed Leuthil’s cheek and hugged Aleth.

“Will Galdor leave with you?” she asked.

“Yes…Why do you ask?”

“Just to know you’re safe!” Aleth said. “Have a safe journey…”

“Thank you…” He said as he walked out of the door, leaving Leuthil in Aleth’s hands.

He knew Aleth would blow Leuthil with questions now and he chuckled at that.

 

 

He reached the courtyard along with the king and Lord Elrond. The lord’s companions were ready to take off after nearly a month. Thranduil caught the sight of one of the guards with a bandaged arm and he shivered from the memory.

 His own party was there too. Galdor was standing among the other three Thranduil had chosen to leave with him on the scouts. Telov, was the elder of the group and he was known for his drawing skills. Burish was standing next to him; Thranduil had chosen him for his great ability in locating and map reading. And then there was Hazar, the only elleth among the group whom he had chosen to have an esthetical vision along with a bossy female presence. Despite their quality…he had known these people since childhood. And they had joined his legion when he became captain. He trusted them with his life.

 

“Thank you for your hospitality your majesty…” Elrond said with a smile. “It was a very pleasant stay, and I’m happy that we could reach an agreement…”

“I’m happy about that too…send my respects to the high king.” Oropher said sternly. “Prince Thranduil will accompany you to our borders…have a safe journey my lord.”

The king also nodded at Glorfindel and then he gestured for Thranduil to go closer while the others mounted.

 

“I’m trusting you with a very important matter Thranduil…don’t fail me.” He whispered as he straightened Thranduil’s loose collar obsessively. “I will expect you back in capital in midsummer.”

“Yes your majesty…” Thranduil bowed and mounted. Before kicking his horse he raised his head and saw Leuthil in Aleth’s balcony. She smiled at him but dared not wave in front of the king. Thranduil lowered his head for her and called the directions to the group and they moved on.

Oropher suddenly felt a deep emptiness in his heart as he watched his son and his company ride away.

“Take care…” he whispered more to himself as the riders disappeared. 


	10. Chapter 10

Thranduil finished reading and folded the parchment. Then he turned around to face the others who were looking at him curiously.

“The king has ordered us to return immediately.” He told the group.

They were camping in the middle of the forest. It was almost the end of autumn and the weather suggested that snow was in the way. Since they had set out for the scouts, Thranduil and his group of four had only returned home twice with nothing satisfying in hand. But this time was different.

“Why does his majesty want us to return so soon?” Hazar asked surprised.

“I don’t know…he doesn’t say.” Thranduil said as he glanced at the paper once again. “We need to pack up…whatever it is, it’s important.”

“My prince you mean we shall leave everything and just go?” Telov said doubtfully, gesturing at the fantastic yet incomplete sketches he had made from a series of massive caves they had found in the north.

“Telov is right my prince…” Hazar said enthusiastically. “This place is the best thing we have found thus far; we cannot just abandon it…”

“I can finish the sketches in a day, my prince” Telov said hopefully.

Thranduil thought for moments as he gave a look at his desperate partners. They had worked hard for finding this place and now that they had, it was cruel to go back with empty hands again.

“The order is clear…we need to pack up and leave now.” He finally said avoiding their disappointed looks.

The group looked at each other and then they obeyed with dropped shoulders and hopeless expressions.

“My friends…” Thranduil said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I will tell the king about this place and we will return again to finish this job…I promise.”

The optimism was affective and they started packing with a better mood.

As Thranduil reached his own tent Galdor caught up with him and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“So the king _truly_ doesn’t say why he wants us back?” he whispered.

“No.” Thranduil said. “He has just said that lord Elrond is here again along with Gil-Galad and there are important matters we need to talk about...he wants me there.”

Galdor thought for a moment but then a mischievous smile shaped on his lips.

“What?” Thranduil asked with raised eyebrows.

“Lady Leuthil would be happy to have you back sooner than expected…”

Thranduil smiled. “She will be even happier when she hears what I have in store for her this time…”

Galdor winked and smiled. Then he headed for his own belongings to pack. Perhaps princess Aleth would also be happy to have _him_ back. He smiled at himself.

***

The armies of elves had camped all around the capital. There were thousands of soldiers, dozens of camps and many war crafts. Leuthil couldn’t remember the city so crowded. She also couldn’t remember seeing so many young men in AmonLanc. Although these elves tried their best not to ruin the forest but the residents of the capital were annoyed and they avoided coming out of their houses as much as they could. The regular daily activities were pending as the city was in a chaos. The people knew that the Noldor high king was here along with his most trusted captain and herald Elrond. But they didn’t know why, yet the mighty army they had along with them did not suggest good things.

 

A place to relax was rare on that time so Leuthil headed deep in the forest, a place where at springs the wild roses grew and where the newcomers did not know of.

When she reached the clearing she sighed. The weather was cold. And there were no roses, nor was there any other wild flower. The coldness she felt inside was even more sorrowful. Thranduil had spent most of the year away. He had only returned to the capital twice and only for a few days. But those days were the sweetest. He spent nearly all of his time with her, and she was thankful for that. He spoke hours with her, talking about the mysterious and strange places he had found within the forest, about the trees he had talked to and she had listened attentively, wondering how beautiful he was, worshiping his delicacy. But every time he had left again she felt she could fade right then. She was like a child lost in a crowded market.

The emptiness she felt whenever she came here was unbearable. Yet she always found herself back here again. She sat on the forest ground and cuddled herself up, feeling so lonely and cheerless. She dug her head in her arms and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the forest just as they did with Thranduil when he wasn’t in a mood to talk. The singing of the birds and the sound of the river took her away on her daydream. She pitied herself as she could not talk to the trees like Thranduil so strangely could. Perhaps there was some justification for the line of Oropher to rule.

 

“Why is my lady so miserable…?”

She felt her heart sink in her chest. His deep-toned voice made her shiver. She jumped to her feet and turned. It was true. It was not a dream. He was standing there in front of her, with his traveling suits. And he was smiling at her, that mesmerizing smile she had fallen for. But why had he returned so soon? She didn’t care…

“Thranduil…” she gasped. And she ran to him with no hesitation. He opened his arms and hugged her, slightly picking her up from the ground. He held her tight as he kissed her hair. When they broke he elicited an insulted gesture.

“What?” She asked surprised.

“Where is my kiss?”

She giggled as he leaned to claim her lips. She didn’t know why this happened to her each time they kissed. Her heart sank inside her, as her knees felt weak...and she never got used to his warm, wet mouth or his passionate acts. He broke the kiss soon and smiled at her.

“Why have you returned so soon?” she asked happily. “Is everything alright?

“It was the king’s order…” Thranduil said. “I still don’t know the reason; I came to you before going to him.”

She smiled at that and embraced him again, digging her face in his hair. He lifted his hand and stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head.

“Leuthil…” he whispered as he broke to look her in the eye. “I want to talk to my father about something.”

She frowned at his sudden seriousness.

“What it is?” she said worried.

“I want to ask for his permission for us to be betrothed…if you accept.” He said doubtfully as if not being sure of her answer.

Leuthil was breathless. After long moments of just looking at him with wide eyes she just managed a smile.

“You want to marry me?” she said breathless, tears feeling her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he laughed. “Is the thought _that_ horrible?” 

She chuckled while a few drops ran down her face as she embraced him tightly again. “I thought you’d never ask…” she said simply.

“I had been stupid enough not to ask sooner….” He said pressing her tightly. “I’ll make it up to you…”

She smiled at the thought but said nothing. She just dug herself more in his chest, taking in his masculine scent.

“Well I take that as a _yes_!” he said chuckling. He broke and kissed her again, intensifying it fast this time as he grabbed her hair and bent her back, leaning on her slightly. She felt she could faint in his hands when his tongue tangled hungrily with hers and she clutched on his chest. He slowly pushed her down and they were soon lying on the yellow autumn leaves, him on top of her.

He ravished her lips as his hands traveled over her body. His weigh felt so nice on her. He stroked her until he reached her skirt and slipped his hand under it, feeling her thighs with his hot palm. She gasped from the sudden sensation as he kissed her neck.

“Your hands are getting too bold my prince.” She gasped.

“You need to get used to it…” he chuckled.

He then stopped kissing her and raised his head to catch her eyes. She was so beautiful under him, so fragile, so tempting. He wanted to have her just then, to show her how much he loved her, to pleasure her beyond description. But she was an honorable maiden and he would respect that. She was different from the wenches he had before and never had he acted disrespectfully with her and he wouldn’t let his lust for her blind him in that way. He felt he was learning the meaning of self restraint that his father had tried so hard to teach him and had failed.

“I should go talk to the king then…” he smiled as he kissed her lightly again before he rose.

***

“You may enter my prince…” the guard at the door said. “His majesty will receive you now.”

Thranduil passed the guard and entered his father’s study. The king was sitting behind his desk, and he raised his head and smiled when Thranduil bowed to him.

“Thranduil…” he smiled. “You finally came…”

“We set out immediately when I got you letter my king…” Thranduil said. “My companions were too upset but I must admit I was happy to receive your words…”

“How come?” The king asked curiously.

“There are also some things I needed to talk to you about…” Thranduil said and he felt hot blood rush into his face.

“What things…?”

“You go first father…” he said. “You were the one who summoned me!”

“No, no, no” Oropher said as he pointed for Thranduil to sit. “You’ve made me curious…You go on and tell me…”

Thranduil sat himself on the chair on front of the desk. He suddenly felt so small comparing to his father. His heartbeat rose and he suddenly wasn’t feeling very brave…

“We found a place…” Thranduil said, avoiding his more personal matter. “A train of massive caves…Telov made some sketches.”

He put the papers on the desk.  The king raised his eyebrows as he studied them.

“They are perfect; they can be an unbreakable stronghold…very far on the northern part of the forest, where no shadow can reach us…” Thranduil explained.

Oropher studied the sketches for a long time before he gave Thranduil a satisfied look and smiled.

“We’ll talk about these later…” he said putting the papers aside carefully. “We should hold these scouts for a while…”

“Why father…?” Thranduil asked suspiciously. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No ion…” Oropher smiled. “I’ll explain after you tell me what is the thing you _really_ want to tell me…”

 

Thranduil blushed. How was it that this king always knew when he was avoiding a subject…he dropped his head, suddenly forgetting all his words. They had been so distant as a father and a son. He had always been independent in making his choices, but now it was a strange feeling to talk to his father about this.

“Come on” Oropher encouraged. “Tell me? What’s on your mind…?”

“I…we…I mean…Lady Leuthil and I…we would like your permission…and blessing…to be betrothed.” He finally managed. “And I was wondering if you could…help me to talk to her father…”

 

Oropher gazed at his son for long moments before he dropped his head, rubbed his eyes and sighed sorrowfully.

Thranduil was startled from his reaction. He had always thought the king liked Leuthil. In fact Oropher had asked him a thousand times if he was serious about this relationship. But why was his reaction like this!?

“What is it, father?” Thranduil asked concerned. “I thought you approved us…”

“I do approve Thranduil…” Oropher interrupted desperately. “But of all the times you could’ve asked for her hand son, why now?”

“Father…I don’t understand.”

“We’re marching to war Thranduil…” Oropher said slightly louder than normal. “That’s why I asked you to return…”

“War…?” Thranduil asked, but then his voice broke. It took him a few moments to analyze the king’s words. He felt all the world fall on his head and all his hopes shattered into pieces.

“So that’s why Gil-galad is here right?” he murmured. He felt dizzy, sick. “He’s asked you to join him…”

“Yes…” Oropher said. “They are marching to Mordor…and we’re also answering to his call…”

Thranduil raised his head and met Oropher eyes desperately.

“Why father…?” he nearly sobbed. “Why should we sacrifice for those who did _nothing_ for us…?”

“Thranduil…”

“They never cared father…” Thranduil interrupted desperately. “Where were they when we were homeless and starving …where were they when we needed them…?”

“We NEVER needed anyone Thranduil….” Oropher nearly yelled, hitting his feast on the desk.

Thranduil looked away but kept silent.

“We give help when we can…but we never expect any in return; because we need **_no-one_** …” Oropher said firmly. “Remember that son.”

Thranduil merely nodded…Oropher’s pride was well-known and Thranduil had learned to accept it as it was.

There were a few moments of silence before Thranduil whispered more to himself. “This changes everything…”

Oropher raised his eyebrows…

“I cannot marry her if we’re going to war…” he murmured. “That will be cruel…”

“You don’t have to come with me…” Oropher said.

Thranduil raised his head and looked at him with surprise.

“I am taking all the legions with me, yet I cannot leave the realm unprotected… I’m going to leave one legion behind to take care of the lands.” Oropher explained. “I was planning on leaving Miklovand and his men…but I can still change the plans.”

Thranduil shook his head rapidly and opened his mouth to answer but he was silenced by his father’s raised hand.

“Don’t answer me tonight…” Oropher said calmly. “You’re tired, and you’re overwhelmed…go and think…”

He then stood as Thranduil also rose absentmindedly. When the king saw his son’s confusion he came closer and held his chin up in an uncharacteristically fatherly manner.

 “You have a choice to settle down with the lady you love…I have always wanted this for you, I won’t take that away from you.” He said regretfully. “Unless it is your own choice to come with me…”

Thranduil held his father’s gaze for a long time. Although not looking a day older than centuries ago, the king’s eyes were like the old beeches in the forest, wise yet exhausted. Which one would he choose? The woman he loved or the father who had never showed him fatherly compassion.

“I’ll decide to night…” he finally murmured, dropping his gaze.

“Alright…you may leave now…” Oropher said gaining his stern features back.

***

“I knew I would find you here…” Leuthil said as she sat on the forest floor beside him.

 He had been lying there for hours. He had walked a long way after talking to his father; not having the heart to return to Leuthil. He needed to think and clear his mind, and in the end he had found himself just there. He had lain there all through the night. His body had grown numb from cold as he had watched the stars through the branches, not really seeing them. And now it was nearly dawn and the edge of the sky was growing lighter.

 

She looked at him for long moments. He was a disaster. Clearly he had been lying there for a long time, perhaps even hours. His golden hair was scattered around him and there were dried leaves tangled in it. His skin was pale from cold and his eyes were unfocused.

“Thranduil…” she called as she gently shook him like an elfling. “You’re scaring me…”

He sighed and slowly got himself up in a sitting position. But Leuthil caught how he avoided her eyes.

“Have you been here all night?” she asked concerned as his body made some cracking sounds.

He merely nodded.

“This is about the war isn’t it?” she said. Thranduil looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time.

“I know…My father told me...” she explained.

Thranduil dropped his gaze again and played with his frozen fingers. He looked broken, hopeless, even slightly embarrassed. 

“We’re not the only ones that will be separated…” she said comforting.

 

“My father has given me a choice…” he whispered. “He said that I can stay if I want to marry you…”

 

Leuthil looked at him for long moments. It was strange for the king to show this kind of compassion, specially when his son’s dignity lay inside the matter. Despite what she truly desired, she couldn’t ask Thranduil to ignore his honor and stay behind just to be with her.

“I don’t believe that is your choice is it?” she said.

He finally looked up at her. “I cannot do that…” he said desperately. “I cannot let him go alone…I just can’t.” His voice broke and he dropped his gaze again.

“I know…” she said as she stroked his hair gently. “I would never ask such a thing from you.”

He looked up again, feeling a rock in his throat. “Leuthil…I’m…I had always been afraid of settling down…I’m sorry for being such a coward…I’m sorry for being so late…” he said mournfully as he dropped his head. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Shshsh…” she pulled herself closer and hugged him tightly, rocking him slowly as they leaned their heads to each other.

“What did the king say about our betrothal?” Leuthil asked.

Thranduil did not answer at first. He sat up straight and looked her for a few moments.

 

“I can’t marry you Leuthil…” he said. “Not like this.”

It took a few moments for Leuthil to comprehend his words. She felt a lump grow in her throat.

“What do you mean?” she murmured.

“You know me well enough…” he said. “I’m not a type of person to do half a job…”

“What are you saying Thranduil?” she said in a shaky tone.

Her betrayed voice made Thranduil shiver. But what could he do? Everything had gone so wrong.

“I cannot marry you when I’m not even sure if I’ll return from this war alive or not…”

“Don’t say that…” she sobbed. “We’ll marry and then we’ll start our lives after you return…”

“And what if I won’t return…” he said. “You’ll linger all your eternity alone? I will not do that to you…”

“Thranduil…” she cried. “There’s no eternity without you…”

“There is…” he said as he rose to his feet. “You’ll forget about me in a few years…and you’ll start a life for yourself…”

“Thranduil please…don’t do this to me.” she begged, tears running down her face, which broke Thranduil’s heart. But he had to do this for her sake.

“I can’t do this Leuthil.” He said. “I won’t.”

Then he turned and walked away from her ignoring her tearful cries, calling him, begging him. He felt his heart burn into ashes inside him and his life shattered to pieces.

***

“We’ll head for Gondor before we march to the Black Gate…” Gil-galad pointed at the map. “Elendil will join us there.”

“This will be the greatest alliance the world has ever seen…” Oropher said.

“Exactly…” Gil-galad nodded.

“Will your son join us?” Elrond asked.

“I do not know!” Oropher answered simply, but when he saw Gil-galad and Elrond’s raised eyebrows he was forced to explain.

“I let him decide if he wants to come or stay…”he said. “If he decides not to join us, my step-son will replace him in the army. I’m offering sixty six legions whether he comes or not.”

Elrond exchanged meaningful looks with Gil-galad.

“I hope he decides to come…” Elrond said. “We need a magnificent warrior like him.”

“I don’t believe he would…” Oropher said sternly and caused Gil-galad’s eyebrows to rise even higher.

“How come?” Elrond asked carefully.

“He has more tempting matters at hand here…” Oropher summarized, not feeling the need to explain more. In fact there was a bloody battle going on inside the king’s mind. Honor and dignity implied that Thranduil should partake as the prince of the realm and as the king he wanted him by his side, yet deep inside, Oropher wished that Thranduil would decide to stay, that way he wouldn’t have to worry about his life anymore.

 

“Prince Thranduil” The guard at the main hall’s door announced.

The three lords all lifted their heads as Thranduil entered followed by Galdor and Telov, his closest friends and stewards. They were dressed in their guard uniforms, but Thranduil was as regal as possible, just as his father had always wished for him to dress in front of high lords. His silver robe which he was wearing over his green tunic manifested his height, and he was wearing his princely circlet. The two stopped and bowed with some distance from the royal table above the stairs but Thranduil came closer until he reached the stairs, then he bowed at the king with all the courtesy possible.

 

“My king…” he said as he rose. He also paid his respect to Gil-galad and Elrond with a hand on his chest.

“Thranduil…” Oropher said with a firm voice as he came closer, standing one step above the prince. “Is there something you wish to tell me…?”

“Yes your majesty…” Thranduil said politely. “I wanted to inform you that I will be joining your army, and my legion of 150 is answering to your call. With your permission of course.”

Thranduil didn’t miss the look on Elrond’s face, nor did he miss the meaningful gazes he exchanged with Gil-galad.

It took Oropher a few moments to respond as the inconsistent feelings had rushed into his heart again. Pride that Thranduil was acting so honorably yet concern from what he dared not think this war may bring to his only son.

“You’ve surprised me…” he finally said.

“Why?” Thranduil raised his eyebrows. “Did you expect anything else, my king?”

Oropher nodded. “I thought you would use this opportunity to keep away from me…” Oropher said simply, not caring at all that they were not alone.

Thranduil was silent for a few moments but then he came closer until he was inches away from his father. He needed to show his unity with his father to everyone, and specially their new allies at the high table. He also needed his father to believe it. So he looked him in the eye evenly.

“No matter how upset our situation is as a father and a son, you are still my king and I am forever loyal to you…” he said slowly yet firmly. “And I will follow you, where ever you go…”

He thought he saw a flash of pride and even a faint smile on Oropher’s face, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

“Even to death?” Oropher asked challengingly.

“Even to death.” He said confidently.

Oropher nodded. “We’ll leave tomorrow at first light.”

“We’ll be there…”

“Good…You may leave…”

Thranduil bowed at the king and the lords again and headed for the door but before he could reach it his father called him from the other side of the hall.

“Thranduil…” his voice echoed in the hall.

The prince turned towards his voice.

“I’m glad to have you on my side…” he said and a rare smile claimed his lips.

Thranduil felt his heart sink in his chest.

“It’s my honor father…”

He bowed again and left the hall, followed by his companions. Despite all the sadness he had felt through the last days, he felt a tingle of joy inside him from his father’s warm words.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“The prince has also joined the forces you know…” Alheru said pretending to be waxing his boots but judging his daughter’s reaction carefully. “Many captains thought he wouldn’t since he’s… not on soft grounds with the king…”

“He may not have a lovely relationship with the king but he will never abandon him.” Leuthil said as she poured some tea for both of them. “I wished you wouldn’t have to go…I fear for you ada.” She said changing the subject.

Alheru smiled as he put one of his boots aside and took the other into his hands. “I am the chief commander; I cannot leave the king dear…”

“I know ada…” she said. “It’s just that all whom I love are marching to war…” she hardly could push back her tears. Her father was all she had to call family, and he was leaving her along with the prince she would call her only love.

“There, there child…” Alheru said as he left the boot on the floor and sat himself beside his daughter, pulling her into his embrace.

A few moments passed in silence until Alheru broke away and pulled her chin up. “Leuthil, the queen has shown us a great favor…”

Leuthil looked up curiously.

“Her majesty would want you to stay in the palace with her while we are away…”

“Father I can’t do that…” Leuthil protested immediately. “I want to be at home.”

“No dear, I cannot leave you all alone in the middle of the forest. Valar knows when we will return…”

“Ada, I won’t do that…”

“Leuthil that doesn’t mean you cannot come home; you just have to go back to the palace before dusk.”

“Ada, that will take my freedom away…I will not do it…”

“That is not something to argue about Leuthil…” Alheru nearly yelled. “I am your father…and I want you to be under her majesty’s care…”

 

The knock on the door interrupted the conflict. Alheru gave one of his _‘we’re not done’_ glares at Leuthil and grabbed the doorknob angrily. The father and daughter both got startled to see the prince in the doorway.

 

“Good evening my prince…” Alheru said coldly.

“Good evening my lord…my lady.” He said as he lowered his head for them. “Pardon my intrusion…”

“No not at all my prince…” Alheru said. “Please do come in…”

Thranduil came inside and stood in front of them.

“I have come here to accompany your lady daughter to the palace.” He said.

Leuthil was speechless and Alheru raised his eyebrows.

“I know of her majesty’s favor my prince; I would bring my daughter myself. There was no need for you to bother so much.” Alheru said in a _‘Don’t you ever think I trust you with my daughter’_ tone.

Despite the slight insult Thranduil smiled. “I’m sorry my lord, but it is the exact order of the king…”

Alheru frowned as Thranduil handed him a small parchment with the king’s signature.

“The king wants you at the court tonight to go over the plans, my lord. His majesty feared that lady Leuthil might protest against moving to the palace so he also indicates that he wants me to personally accompany your lady daughter to the palace and make sure of her settlement there …”

 

Leuthil gazed at Thranduil with wide eyes as his father studied the parchment. Thranduil and her father were both leaving tomorrow and she was already on edge because of that, and now she was being treated like a stupid child. And the king was dragged into this stupidness while he had a war to decide on. This was too much. Alheru finished reading and handed the parchment back as he nodded.

“You better go pack your things Leuthil…”he said, keeping his stern eyes on Thranduil. “It’s not proper to keep our prince waiting…”

“I’m not going anywhere…” Leuthil said sharply.

“Leuthil we’ve gone through this…” Alheru nearly yelled. “Go pack your things…”

“Ada…I want to stay in my house…” she said desperately. “No one can take me away from it…”

Alheru opened his mouth to argue but Thranduil interrupted. “My lady, your lord father is the best officer we have, yet he’s no use to the king and the realm if his mind lingers here with concern about you…”

Alheru’s eyes darted from his daughter to Thranduil and glared at him. But fortunately Leuthil couldn’t find the right words to argue with him and Thranduil used the situation.

“All the single parent families are being accompanied to the palace so that her majesty can support them easier…it’s not just you my lady…It’s an order from her majesty, surely you’re not planning on protesting against her will.”

Alheru knew that he was lying but he said nothing when he saw the expression on Leuthil’s face soften.

“A carriage is waiting for you outside…” the prince said and he smiled warmly.

Leuthil was silent for a few moments. If this was an order for all the single parent families then she had to accept her defeat.

“I better go get my stuff then…” she murmured as she turned to go to her room. When she disappeared behind the door Alheru glared at Thranduil.

“She’ll soon find out about your lie…” he whispered victoriously, as if hoping that this lie would release his daughter from the prince’s hands.

“Yes, your lady daughter will know about it when she is safe inside the palace with no way to return…” Thranduil murmured as he smiled mischievously. “I don’t mind being the liar when it comes down to her safety.”

Alheru glared again but Thranduil ignored, of course the lord was not satisfied when he saw that the prince had no intention of hiding his emotions towards her daughter. How impudent!

“I’ll be outside my lord…” Thranduil said trying to save himself from the lord’s piercing look. “Take your time…”

 

 

They reached the palace soon. As she came out of the carriage Leuthil was startled to see the royal halls so crowded. The king had ordered for all the captains, and soldiers to be ready for departure at dawn and the palace was in a chaos with officers who were running around, fetching last minute weapons and supplies. Yet she did not see any families housed inside.

Just as they entered, they saw the queen among the crowd, helping the captains and the maids to make things ready. She approached them with long paces when she caught the sight of them.

“Good evening Leuthil…My lord.” she said as she smiled warmly.

Leuthil suddenly realized how Thranduil’s smile was so similar to hers. The queen was the symbol of strength and patience to her. With a rebel son such as Thranduil and a hot-tempered husband such as Oropher, she was always calm and caring. Along with being beautiful as the sun itself she was also a very compassionate person and the people knew her as the mother of the realm.

“Good evening majesty…” Leuthil bowed as his father also did.

“I’m happy that you could convince her…” Harma said as she regarded Alheru with a warm smile.

“I didn’t your highness.” Alheru said grouchily. “Your lord son did…”

The queen raised her eyebrows and darted her eyes on Thranduil.

 “Did you?” she looked upon him. “And what techniques of persuasion did you use Thranduil. If may I ask!”

“Lying…” Thranduil said simply.

“Pardon my prince…?” Leuthil suddenly turned towards him.

 “All of it was true my lady…” He smiled innocently. “Just the part that we’re housing the single families inside the palace was the inspiration of my mind…”

Leuthil looked like a dragon ready to spit out fire but she couldn’t find suitable words to express her annoyance and yet be polite enough in front of the queen.

“Your father would be happy to hear you’ve developed diplomatic practice Thranduil.” The queen teased and made them all smirk. Then she turned towards Leuthil. “My dear, your house is deep within the forest and you’re alone, his majesty and I were worried about you…It is the direct order of the king for you to take residence in the palace…”

Leuthil looked from the queen to her father and then to Thranduil. She couldn’t fight back the feeling that Thranduil was behind the whole plot of imprisoning her in the palace. But she couldn’t fight all of them. So she merely nodded.

“Good…” Harma said happily. “Thranduil would you show Leuthil to her chambers, I need to have a word with lord Alheru…”

“Of course mother…” Thranduil said, and then he turned towards Leuthil ignoring Alheru’s glares. “This way my lady…”

They passed through many corridors in silence until they reached for the hallway where the bed chambers were located. The place was deserted. This was the first time there were alone together since the evening.

 

“Why did you lie to me?” Leuthil said angrily, pulling Thranduil’s arm to stop him.

“Because you’re too stubborn, and I couldn’t just pick you up, put you on my shoulder and carry you to the palace in front of your father…could I?”

“But you shouldn’t have lied!” she insisted.

“I will do anything to keep you safe…even lie!” he said looking her straight in the eye. “This is your chamber…” he opened a door.

Leuthil glared at him before going inside. The chamber was fantastic. There was a huge bed on the left corner, a desk and a massive mirror, the window opened to a view of the woods.

“I’ll be in my chamber, on the other wing…” Thranduil said doubtfully. “In case you need anything…”

He turned towards the door, but before he could go out Leuthil grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave…” she whispered. The pleading in her voice made him shiver.

He felt his insides fall on the floor. Her beautiful face, her begging eyes, made his heartbeat rise. He was speechless, not finding the words to express the battle inside him. He had sworn not to hurt her, and yet here he was…

“Stay…” she whispered again as she leaned her head on his elbow.

“Leuthil…” he said quietly, heat rising up inside him. “I can’t…It’s not right…”

“You’ll leave in a few hours…” she said mournfully. “Let me be with you…if only for a night.”

“Listen sugar…” Thranduil called her sweetly as he cupped her face. “Valar knows when I will return, perhaps I even won’t…”

“No…” Leuthil interrupted desperately. “Don’t talk like that…”

“Listen Leuthil…” Thranduil said firmly. “I will not destroy your life for my own desires…”

“Thranduil…please…”

“You’re weak now…and you’re overwhelmed with emotions…you think I am so cruel to abuse your state like that?”

“Thranduil…” Leuthil sobbed and tears ran down her face again. “Please…don’t push me away.”

“It’s better this way…” he said as he wiped her tears away with his thumb. “ You’ll forget about me in a short while…and you’ll get on with your life…and you’ll never have to shed your tears for someone so unworthy.”

“Thranduil…don’t leave me…” She wept as he opened the door and left her alone in the unfamiliar room. She fell to the floor and cried with no restraint.

Thranduil walked through the halls, his mind racing, his heart bursting out of his chest. He felt a massive rock in his throat and his head was turning. He leaned on a wall to regain his calmness.

***

“My lady…” Galdor called quietly. “Over here…” he waved at Aleth to lead her in the small back garden. He had tried so much to find a quiet place in the chaos.

She looked around worriedly before she ran to him. She had missed him, with the scouts he went with Thranduil she couldn’t see him much. Even when he was in the palace they couldn’t see each other as much as they wanted as they feared for their affair to be revealed. None of them dared tell the others about their love. She wanted to embrace him, but she held herself back not knowing if it was proper or not. Despite their love, there was still a little distance between them, after all she was the only daughter of the king and Galdor was nothing but a commoner under the mercy of the prince.

She just stood there for a long time. It seemed that Galdor was also doubtful.

“I’ve missed you my lady…” he finally managed after long moments of silence. He took her hands in his and kissed them. She felt heat rise inside her. He would leave in a few hours and it was even possible that she wouldn’t see him again. She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing his happy face, not hearing his warm voice, not feeling his big, masculine hands. Her tears fell across her face.

“Why are you crying?” Galdor whispered.

“You were the unreachable hero of my dreams…” she sobbed. “And the moment you became real…I lost you again…”

Galdor looked at her desperately for a few moments before he dropped all courtesy and embraced her tightly. Her body shook hard in his hands as she cried. For long moments they held each other like that. None of them said a word. Both felt an unbearable emptiness, for how they were so vulnerable against the fate that was separating them.

***

It was well past midnight when Harma grabbed Oropher’s shoulder and pulled him in a corner.

“Come to the chamber…” she pleaded. “Just a second…please.”

Oropher smiled as he stroked her hair from her face. “You go…I’ll join you in a moment.”

Harma smiled and headed for the royal bedchambers.

Oropher turned in after a few minutes. He looked at her beloved wife for long moments. She was all the meaning of perfection. Although not looking a day older than the time he first met her, her eyes showed the long years they had been together, and the playful looks  of her youth had been replaced with wisdom. Without a word he paced the distance between them and took her in his strong arms and kissed her hungrily. She kissed her back with a burning desire, clutching on his robe as if he would perish in her hands any minute. They lay their flames across a united fire once more for what they knew this could be their last night together…

***

 Leuthil had sat behind in her new room for long hours. She finally decided to take the matters into her own hands. She got up and went out of her chamber. The palace was still crowded and there were sounds coming from the main hall but the corridors that leaded to the royal chambers were deserted accept for Liadan, the head of the kitchen, who was passing by.

“Mistress Liadan…” Leuthil called.

The lady turned her blue eyes to her and smiled as she curtsied. “How can I help you lady Leuthil?”

“I would like to know where prince Thranduil’s chamber is.”

“Second door on the left my lady…” She said as she smiled meaningfully.

Leuthil ignored her and headed for his chamber. She stood in front of the door, but did not know what to do. Should she knock? Should she call him out? After long moments she finally knocked.

“I said I do not wish to be disturbed…” he barked from inside.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. When she entered he was lying on his bed with all his clothes. She closed the door and locked it. He opened his eyes and when he saw her in the doorway he jumped from his place.

“Leuthil…” he said surprised. “Is everything alright?”

When no answer came from her he got up and paced the distance between them and held her shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“You said I can come to you if I needed anything…” she said calmly.

“I did…” he said worriedly.

“Well I…” she looked at him evenly. “I need _you_ …”

Thranduil merely stared at her for long moments, doing nothing. His eyes showed nothing either. She clasped his tunic and pulled herself closer to him. He didn’t pull back, yet he merely kept his gaze on her. His breath was warm against her face. She rose on her tip toes and kissed him gently.

“Leuthil…please…” he gasped as he pulled back.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered. “I thought you loved me…”

“I _do_ love you…” he said desperately. “That’s why I cannot do this to you…”

“How can you deny me when you love me…?”

“Leuthil look at me…” he said firmly and he cupped her face. “You have a chance for another life…another love…”

“I don’t want another love Thranduil…” she interrupted harshly. “I want _you_ …”

“Leuthil you should forget about me…you can fall in love again…and you have a chance of a nice life…I will not take that away from you just to fulfill my desire…” he said desperately, feeling his defenses weaken gradually. He knew his words were not convincing enough for either of them.

“There is no other in my world, but you…” she said hoarsely. “There is no life without you…”

“My dear, I cannot dishonor you like this…”

“Thranduill…do you love my honor more than me…?” she said quietly as she took his hand into hers and put it on her chest. Her heart was beating fast beneath his palm. “Can’t you see…?” she whispered. “There’s no honor left inside my heart…love is the only thing you find inside me now…”

 

She felt his expression change. Behind the cold, respectful mask he was wearing; she could see his flames of desire. She needed to persuade him just a little more. She lifted his hands and pressed them to her lips, kissing every finger with care. He closed his eyes from the contact and turned his face away. “Leuthil…please…” he sighed. “Don’t tempt me…”

She didn’t listen as she tenderly kissed his palm, then she slowly circled her arms around his neck to draw his head closer, she kissed his cheek, his jaw line and when he didn’t pull back she slowly kissed him on the mouth. Immediately he tried to pull back again, but she held on to him. He slowly gave in to the intimacy, and her heart swelled with joy when he moaned in pleasure in her mouth and his hand grabbed her hair and pressed her face tighter to his. With a little more effort she urged him to intensify his kiss and he crushed his mouth against hers thrusting his tongue between her parted lips. She pressed herself against his muscular body, pulling him closer. She felt she could fall any minute as her knees were feeling weak. As if he had sensed this he circled his hand around her waist and crushed her tight against him. Her body was burning in desire and anticipation. She needed him to take his love making further, she needed him so much.

As if suddenly regaining his self restraint, Thranduil pulled back and gasped for air. But Leuthil still held on to his tunic, not pulling away from his body.

“You’re weakening me…” he said matter-of-factly as he locked his flaming eyes with hers.

“I’m loving you…” she murmured.

“I don’t trust myself with you…” he said. “Neither should you…”

“I don’t care…”

“If you won’t leave this room right now, I won’t be responsible for my actions…” he threatened.

“I just want to love you…” she said as she tried to kiss him again. He turned his face away.

“Leave Leuthil…” he begged. “ _Please_ leave…”

“How can you deny me like that…?” she whispered. “How can you deny our love…?”

He turned his face towards her and kissed her again, crushing his mouth against hers. He kissed her voraciously as he tightened his grip on her waist. His masculine taste filled her mouth as they kissed for a long time before Leuthil pulled away and looked him in the eye.

“Do you love me?” she whispered.

“I love you…” he said.

“Then take me…” she ordered. “Have me for yourself…” she claimed his lips again. Thranduil was not an obedient person by nature but he felt his defenses fall as he groaned and pressed her body against his. She felt she could melt like hot wax. With his slight masculine violence he pulled her against the wall, captivating her between his arms.

“You’re a witch…” he indicated huskily before he kissed her again. Sucking the essence of love from her mouth as he ravished her. She moaned in disappointment when he abandoned her lips but soon she was again filled with sensations as he kissed and nipped her neck. She hardly suppressed the urge to scream in pleasure when he licked her ear tip, and she clenched on his chest firmly as she bit her lips. He gently put his hand on her lips, releasing them from her teeth. “Let me hear your moans…” he said as his hand dropped from her shoulder and traveled on her neck and collar bone until he cupped one breast. She moaned in the sudden heat that claimed her from his touch. He lowered his hand and felt all the way down her abdomen to her wide hips and then to her back side, cupping her bottom cheeks. She gasped as he moved his hand under her thigh and lifted her leg to hook it over his hip, then he pressed himself on her hard. She wrapped her leg tighter around his waist to stimulate the contact as he kissed her hungrily. He turned her around hastily and cupped both her breasts from behind. His swift actions were almost overwhelming and when he squeezed her breasts gently she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Ahhh…Thranduil…”

He groaned and began kissing her neck and shoulders as he still held her breasts like that. She could feel his arousal press on her back side. He released one hand to travel down her body. He lifted her skirt up and slipped his hand inside. She moaned as his hand caressed her inner thighs. His palm was burning her skin and she gasped as it found its way between her thighs. She shifted instinctively as his fingers felt her folds but his firm grip on her waist did not let her escape the shameless touch.

With a swift move he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Before gently putting her down he stood there for some moments, just looking at her. His eyes were full of love and they were burning with desire. He laid her on the bed with all the care in the world.

Pulling himself up on her, he claimed another long, passionate kiss, as his hand caressed her everywhere on her body. He pulled away, and they gazed at each other’s eyes breathless.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered. She smiled and stroked his handsome features. His high cheek bones, his delicate nose, his fine lips; all were pure magnificence. Valar knew how much she loved him.

 

“I love you princeling…” she said. He smiled and kissed her lightly again. He gently unfastened the hooks of her dress and pulled her gown down. She lifted her back to make it easier for him and then he pulled her shift down her waist, revealing her naked body. He drank the sight of her for long moments before he kissed her again.

“I want to feel your skin against mine…” she whispered as she reached for his buttons, unfastening them one by one. He watched her as she pushed the tunic off his shoulders.

 She sighed from the sight of his body. Slender, yet muscular, with narrow waist and wide shoulders; he was the manifestation of the Valar’s perfection. He was the wild itself. He smiled when he felt the pleasure she was taking from the sight of his form. He moved his hand over her body, feeling her skin as if he had a fragile piece of crystal in his hands. He leaned again and left a trail of burning kisses from her jaw line to her neck and then he travelled down on her chest. When his warm mouth covered her nipple she moaned and arched her back in sensation as she grabbed his hair.

“Thranduil…” she moaned which made him suck her even harder. He replaced his mouth with his hand, fondling her nipple as he licked the other. She felt as if her heart might burst out and kill her any moment.

He kissed his way down to her belly and licked her navel for a time, causing the sweetest whimpers. Then he kissed her thighs and gently pushed them apart. He kissed and licked her folds with an annoying slowness causing her to writhe and when his wet mouth finally covered her core she screamed his name in satisfaction. She hissed with pleasure when the tip of his tongue invaded her as she lifted her hips instinctively. He licked her for a long time before he pulled himself up and kissed her again, making her taste herself in his mouth.

She reached for the breeches on his leggings and unfastened them. She could see his arousal piercing the fabric. He shifted and took off the leggings. She lifted herself on her elbows to see what he had in store for her and she suddenly felt a tingle of fear by seeing his huge member. The expression on her face made Thranduil chuckle.

“What? Not feeling very brave?” he teased.

“It’s so big…” she murmured. He leaned again and kissed her tenderly. Then he looked her in the eye.

“I will never hurt you…” he said seriously. She merely nodded. “Say you believe me…” he ordered gently.

“I believe you…” she whispered. And she truly did, he had never given her a reason not to trust him.

 He claimed her lips again as his hand travelled back between her thighs. His fingers pushed her folds apart threatening to explore her most private parts. She whimpered as he penetrated her with his fingers taking her into a state of frenzy. He watched her face as he slid inside her with two long digits, satisfied with how she writhed and moaned in pleasure to his ministrations.

“Thranduil…” She gasped, as his slid the third inside her. “Please…”

“Patience sugar…” he said hoarsely. “You’re almost ready…”

 He took her hands and locked them in his on her sides as he settled himself between her legs. It was finally time. The moment she had waited for; to become his.

“You’re sure about this…?” he hesitated.

“I’m sure Thranduil…” she said. “Take me now…”

She overcame her fear and opened her legs wider for him as he put his shaft against her heat, rubbing it on her slickness. She gasped and closed her eyes as he slid between her folds. He moved inside her slowly, making her feel all his length, inch by inch. There was a moment of burning pain and she gasped from the sudden irritation but before she could even realize it he kissed her hard making her forget the pain he was causing by piercing her body like that.

She had finally done it. The love of her life had taken her at last. She was his by right now and she would stay his forever. She knew she would never lie under anyone except him…

After Thranduil made sure she had adjusted to his invasion, he started taking a slow rhythm in and out of her, bringing the pleasure back duplicated. Gradually he quickened his pace and their moans of pleasure filled the room. He brought his face closer to hers as he panted, gazing at her with his glittering eyes, which were full of love, lust and guilt.

“Say my name…” he said as he ravished her.

“Thranduil….” She cried. “Oh…Thranduil I love you.”

 He kissed her savagely, invading her mouth viciously as his other part pierced her body in the most shameless and lovely way. She felt she could explode any moment. An overwhelming heat rose inside her and she screamed his name over and over as climax took her, digging her nails on his back. He also came with her as he groaned and poured his warmth inside her giving her the deepest satisfaction. They were both breathless. He dug his face in her hair and kissed her neck tenderly has he panted.

“I love you…” he whispered.

“I love you…”

He collapsed next to her and pulled her into his arms, covering her with the blanket. She felt a sudden tiredness overcome her, but she needed to stay awake. If this was their last night together, she couldn’t waste it with sleep. But her vision was already blurring. 

“Do not fight it back…” he whispered when he saw her eyelids get heavy. “Go to sleep my love…”

“Thranduil…” she called with all the might she had left. “Promise you’ll come back to me after all this is over…”

It took him a few moments to respond.

“I promise…”he finally whispered as he kissed the top of her head and pressed her more tightly to his chest. Her eyes grew heavier and she drifted into a deep sleep in the safety of his embrace, not seeing his tears that ran down his face quietly. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fasten seatbelts guys...things are getting ugly from here!

It was the first light when Galdor came out of his chamber, dressed in his traveling armor. He felt a deep emptiness inside him as he headed for Thranduil’s chambers. He saw Galion before the door. The elf’s brown eyes were sorrowful. This butler had been Thranduil’s closest servant for long years and Thranduil’s comfort had been his chief concern for many ages, it was quite understandable for him to be in such distress

“Lord Galdor…” he said as he bowed.

“Galion…” he smiled. “You go take care of other things…I’ll call the prince.”

Galion nodded and left. Galdor sighed and with a slight knock he opened the door to Thranduil’s chamber. The room was semi dark as it was only lit by the faint light of sunrise. Thranduil was standing beside his desk and Galdor was surprised to see him already dressed up in his traveling suits. When he opened his mouth to say something Thranduil turned around swiftly and silenced him with a finger on his lips. Galdor’s eyes darted away from him as he gazed around the room to find the reason and his eyes fell upon her. Leuthil was sleeping in Thranduil’s bed. Her body was covered with the blanket but from the sight of her bare shoulders one could easily guess she was naked underneath.

 

Galdor looked back at Thranduil with a mixture of pity and reproach. But Thranduil kept his eyes on the maiden he loved so much…guilt filling him. He went closer quietly, and pulled the blanket up, covering all her body with care. Then he gently kissed her forehead. He took in the scent of her as if taking his last breath.

 

Galdor watched the prince as he took his time saying his silent goodbyes to his sleeping beauty. And after Thranduil was finished they went out of the door together. Thranduil closed the door carefully as to make no sound, and then he turned to Galdor.

 

“Don’t say anything…” he said firmly when he saw the steward’s accusing look. Galdor obeyed and remained silent as he lifted both his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Mistress Liadan…” Thranduil called the lady from across the corridor. Liadan came to him swiftly and curtsied.

“Can I do anything for you my prince…?”

“You are responsible for lady Leuthil’s comfort from now on…” Thranduil said firmly. “Write to me of her health…If anything ill happens to her I hold you responsible.”

“As you wish my prince…”

Thranduil nodded and the lady left with another curtsey.

“Everyone is ready…” Galdor said. “We’ll take off in half an hour…shall I bring your horse?”

“No you go organize the men…” Thranduil said. “I’ll get Mursul.”

 

They parted at the foot of the stairs and Thranduil headed for the stables. His mind was blank and his heart fell like a solid rock inside his chest. His life had stopped from last night, and he knew it would never resume again until he would return to her after this cursed war.

 

There were few horses left in the stables. He went for his black stallion and patted him. He took his time stroking the horse’s hair and feeding him. As if sensing his sorrow the stallion brought his head closer to him and rubbed it on Thranduil’s chest gently. Thranduil closed his eyes and leaned his head on the animal’s neck; the warmth of Morsul’s body calmed him slightly.

 

“Are you alright Thranduil?”

Oropher’s voice took him out of his reverie. He had been so deep in his daydream that he hadn’t heard when the king and Miklovand had entered the stables. Nor had he sensed their presence while they had stood there watching him.

 

“I’m fine majesty…thank you.” He said, slightly embarrassed.

 

Miklovand was standing behind the king. His face showed nothing. No grief, no hate…not even regret from being left behind.

 

“Miklovand…” the king turned to him. “I think I’ve told you all you should know…don’t forget to send reports to me”

“Yes my king…” he nodded. “Do not worry…I’ll take care of everything…”

“Good…” Oropher said. “I’m trusting you with my realm, my people and my family…don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t my king…” Miklovand said, and then he turned to Thranduil and looked at him with an uncharacteristic tenderness. “Is there anything I can do for you my prince, whilst you’re away…?”

Thranduil held his eyes evenly. “No…” he said. “Thank you…”

Miklovand nodded. Then he turned to the king to say his goodbyes but he was wordless. After all Oropher had been a more father to him than his own who had left him in the forest. “Take care, my king…” he finally said with a shaky voice. “May the Valar light your way.” Stern Oropher merely patted him on the shoulder and smiled. Then Miklovand turned to Thranduil. They looked at each other for a few seconds, dark memories haunting them.

“Be safe…” Miklovand murmured.

“You too…” Thranduil said as he nodded coldly. Miklovand bowed and left the stables.

Thranduil followed him with his gaze until he was gone and then he turned his attention to his horse and started saddling him. He could feel Oropher’s gaze upon himself but he wished to ignore it. The king came closer and stood beside him.

 

“Did you say your goodbyes to that lovely lady of yours?” he said gently.

“No…” Thranduil murmured, dropping his gaze.

Oropher raised his eyebrows, not sure if he should persuade his son to explain more.

“She fell asleep in my bed last night…” Thranduil said after a few moments, feeling the need to talk to someone. “I…I didn’t have the heart to wake her…” his voice broke.

 

Oropher looked at him mournfully for a few moments. He hated himself to be the cause of this. The king then grabbed Thranduil’s shoulders and turned the prince towards himself.

“Look at me ion…” he said as he waited for Thranduil to look him in the eye. “You _will_ return to her…I promise.”

Thranduil looked at him doubtfully for a few seconds. He wanted so much to believe him and the king’s eyes were determined. He nodded and dropped his head. Oropher smiled and gave him a gentle fatherly tap on the face, and then he took the rein of his horse and went out of the stables. Thranduil followed him, pulling his own stallion. The palace’s foreground was full of soldiers and their families. All were saying tearful goodbyes. Oropher gestured for Thranduil to follow him through the crowd until they reached the stairs where Aleth was standing along with the queen.

 

Aleth was crying silently but despite looking sorrowful the queen stood strong as always and she smiled at her son and husband as they approached. Oropher smiled back at her and embraced her firmly as he kissed her hair. Harma was choking with tears but not a single drop left her eyes.

“I love you…” she whispered in the king’s ear.

“I love you too meleth-nin…” Oropher said and kissed her lightly on her lips.

“Take care of my son…” she whispered in his ear. The king nodded as he turned to his daughter and hugged her too.

“Don’t cry my little one…” he said as he kissed her temple and made Aleth cry even harder.

Thranduil turned to his mother. He had never realized how much he loved her, how much safety and security she had given to his life. She smiled and opened her arms to embrace him. He wondered if there was any other creature in the face of Arda more beautiful than her…

 

He hugged her tightly and she kissed him a thousand times before letting go. Thranduil was silent as he knew if he opened his mouth he would give in to his tears. He took a deep breath in her hair…he would need to remember the scent of his mother…the scent of his home.

 

Then he turned to his little sister.

“Come here neth-nin” he said as he took her in his arms. He kissed her cheek and lifted her chin up. “Don’t cry…” he said. “I’ll bring souvenirs from Mordor, I promise!” he teased and made her chuckle despite her tears.

 

Soon it was time to go. And the captains mounted on their horses and took their position with their legions. The soldiers lined up and with the order of the king they rode out, leaving the great Greenwood for the wastelands of Mordor, where all of them knew that might become their cold grave.


	13. Chapter 13

The sounds around him were hazy and vague. It was as if hearing them from under the water. His head turned round and round. Perhaps if he could open his eyes the spinning would stop but his eyelids felt like two heavy rocks, not having the head to open anytime soon. He could hear talking around him; familiar voices. Perhaps if he could think a little he would recognize them, but it was as if there was no brain inside his head to think with. He wanted to remain there. He wanted to stay still forever.

 

“Thranduil…”

The voice calling him was familiar. A deep-toned sound it had, and it was calling him firmly. Yes, that was the voice of a king, ordering him to awaken…The air felt so heavy. He couldn’t breathe. It was as if having a huge, heavy warg on his chest. If he could just breathe a little he could remember what had made him this weak…maybe he could think properly.

 

“Thranduil…open your eyes …”

_Oropher_ …he thought. It was the voice of his father. The voice he had known for ages. He was well familiar with his firm tone, stern and solid. He wanted so much to answer him, but he didn’t have the strength to.

 

He was gradually feeling other things; a severe pain on his left side, and another on his right shoulder. His mind slowly started responding and the memories came back to him.

The chaos, a swarming battle, elves and men and orcs…he remembered the stinking smell of them, and their horrid faces…their hideous weapons…yes, it was a black sword…it looked more like a piece of metal than a sword…and it had pierced him brutally, while he had been fighting many at once…he remembered blood, falling, and pain…he had not fallen on the ground, but on many dead bodies that were once his friends…disgust had been all that he knew then, and wish for a fast death…the orc had raised his sword … he had known he was close to getting his wish… he had welcomed it…Death was much more honorable than this miserable life…being lowered as the most pathetic creatures…there was no honor in this…then he had heard a load yell and a tall figure coming between him and his enemy, shoving him aside with force…his father, fighting the horrible creature away from him… ‘don’t you touch my son, you filth’ the king had cursed…Galdor trying to pull him away from the battle…cries and drunken laughter of the enemy…the despair he felt for not being finished off just then.

 

“My prince…please…” It was Galdor’s voice. “…Open your eyes.”

Prince? He smirked in his thoughts. Who was ever a prince? Princes belong to beautiful lands, and magnificent palaces…He was just a pitiful creature like the rest of them…a captive…a prisoner to his fate… a fate that had brought them all here…in these wastelands, where food scratched their mouths, water burned their throats and air turned to ash in their lungs.

 

He felt a strong hand on his forehead, stroking his damp hair out of his face tenderly. He had been unfamiliar to this sensation for a long time. No gentleness found its way inside the camps of war. Even close friends did not have the nerve to show each other kindness here. Not even the lustful soldiers showed each other tenderness in their soldier’s play. This hand though, felt like the strong fatherly arms he had always wished for on stormy nights, and he had never found…

 

He gathered all his might and slowly opened his eyes. His vision was hazy but he saw faces. He blinked a few times to clear his sight. He tried to move but the pain on his side flashed through his body and made him gasp. The strong hand landed on his shoulder to keep him still.

 

“Lie still…” Oropher ordered firmly.

He collapsed back and coughed a few times. The air was so filthy that these deep coughs had become epidemic among some of the men. Another hand lifted his head and poured some water in his dried throat.

 

He tried to move again. He felt sick. He knew he would through up any second if he lay back like that. If he could sit, perhaps his head would stop spinning. But the pain made him breathless again.

“I…I need to sit…” he croaked, hoping that they would give him a hand.

Galdor put a strong arm on his back and pulled him up, supporting his weigh on his shoulder. He felt better when he sat like that, but he was still dizzy.

 

“How do you feel?” Oropher asked emotionlessly. It was hard to believe he was the same father that had turned to a flaming lion when he had seen his son in danger. Now he was again the stern, cold king he always was.

 

“My head…” he stammered as he rubbed his eyes. “I feel dizzy…”

“Do you remember anything?” Oropher asked sternly.

“Everything…” Thranduil murmured.

 

He looked around. They were in his tent. He remembered Galdor carrying him to this shelter as he ran, shouting for the healers. It was a small tent, and there was only a traveling bed and a basin of water inside it. Oropher was sitting on the bed beside him and Galdor was standing next to the bed unable to suppress his smile as he was so delighted to see the prince alright again.

 

“How long have I been here?” Thranduil asked.

“Couple of days…” Oropher answered.

“You scared us my prince…” Galdor said with a light tone.

“You were lucky…” Oropher commented. “It’s a miracle that you’re still alive…”

 

The king then stood and after a hesitation he turned to Thranduil again.

“You’re awake now; I need to go to the camp of Lothlórien.” He said. “We need to go over some plans…”

“What plans father?” Thranduil asked distracted from the pain and lightheadedness.

“I don’t know yet…” Oropher said not looking him in the eye. “Perhaps we would attack on the gate tomorrow…”

“Without Gil-galad?” Thranduil asked with wide eyes.

“With or without him…” Oropher said. “It doesn’t matter anymore…”

Thranduil opened his mouth to protest but Oropher silenced him with a raised hand.

“I don’t know yet Thranduil, and it doesn’t concern you either…I do not want you in the battle for now.” he said.

“Why father…?” Thranduil protested in a loader voice.

“You were injured, and you’re weak …”

“I am not _weak_!!!” Thranduil nearly yelled.

“I cannot control this battle when I constantly worry about your life Thranduil!!!” Oropher shouted angrily, and made Thranduil silent. These kind of emotional expressions were not usually produced by Oropher.

“Yet I have more exact plans for you…” Oropher said in a calmer tone. “I want you to take your men and patrol around the land, see if you can find a place that we can resettle the camp…”

“I can fight…” Thranduil protested again.

Oropher turned to him with burning eyes. “You do as I tell you!!!” he barked. “I have enough stupidness around me Thranduil. Do I have to argue with you too?”

Thranduil gazed at him for a few seconds. Now was not the time to trigger Oropher he acknowledged.

 

“Why are you looking for such a place?” Thranduil asked but his voice broke as the heavy coughs made him breathless again.

“This is the reason…” Oropher said disgustedly gesturing at Thranduil’s messed up state as he nearly fell from the bed by the heavy rough coughs. “The air is heavier here than in the camp of Noldor…the weak ones are losing their strength breathing it.”

“I’m not _weak_ …” Thranduil barked wildly as he stabbed his father with flaming eyes. “I have fought along your side all this time…do not call me weak, for I am not!”

 

Oropher regarded him for long moments, but said nothing. Thranduil held his gaze evenly with piercing eyes, irritated by what his father had called him. Amazing how he did not care what everyone said about him, but a single word from his father made him aflame like a dragon.

 

“Then get out of your sick bed…” Oropher said harshly. “I need you to set out before dawn…”

He then turned towards the exit. The king looked tiered, though he tried so much not to show it.

“Father…” Thranduil called before Oropher could go out.

The king stopped and turned his head slightly.

“Thank you for saving my life…” Thranduil said without looking at him.

Oropher turned to him completely and looked at him for a long time. For a moment Thranduil felt he wanted to say something but he did not. The king merely nodded and went out of the tent.

 

But before leaving he gestured for Galdor to follow him. He paced away from Thranduil’s tent until he knew the prince wouldn’t hear them. Then he turned to Galdor and looked him straight in the eye. It took the king a few moments to find his words.

 

“I never approved of your friendship with Thranduil, you know…” he said bluntly. “I always thought you so low to be friend with a prince of mine…”

 

Galdor merely lowered his head. He knew this. He remembered countless times in their childhood and in their adulthood that Thranduil had stood up for him in the face of his father. Of course the king had gradually given up on trying to separate this lowly Silvan from his son.

 

“Yet you’ve proved me wrong…” the king said in a more tender tone. Galdor looked up at him, hardly believing what he was hearing.

“You’ve been a brother to him more than any real sibling would…” Oropher continued. “I praise and appreciate your loyalty to my son…”

“Thank you my lord…” Galdor murmured, not knowing what was expected from him in this moment.

“Galdor…” the king called to draw his attention. “Will you promise that you will be forever loyal to my prince…no matter what happens?”

Galdor looked up at him. “I ‘ _am’_ forever loyal to him, my king…”

Oropher grabbed his shoulder tightly and held his gaze. “Promise me that you’ll never leave him …that you’ll keep him safe from harm.” He said gravely.

“I promise my lord…” Galdor said firmly. “I’ll never leave his side.”

“Good…” the king sighed, as if relieved from a burden. “I will not have to worry for Thranduil, he will be safe with you…”

He walked away a few steps towards his tent but then he turned again to Galdor who was completely puzzled.

“Keep him away from the battle tomorrow…no matter what happens.” He ordered before turning in his tent.

***

Leuthil stood in Thranduil’s chamber alone. Nothing had changed in the room since the party had left. The only thing that showed the long years was the dust on the prince’s belongings. She sighed as she remembered the beloved owner of the chamber.

Leuthil walked around the chamber sweeping her fingers on everything, touching them as if she could feel Thranduil’s presence. They had thought that the war would end soon. The encouraging words of Oropher in his mighty speeches before the war had given them courage and faith. But now there was nothing left from those feelings inside them. They had waited so long for good news, so long had they waited for the loved ones to return home. A year had passed, and then another year, and then another year. Nothing had arrived from the plains of Mordor accept the long lists of deceased. Hope was lost, faith was forgotten, and ‘ _memories’_ was the only thing left for the abandoned to hold on to.

 

She stopped when she reached the closet. Long had she wanted to open it and had not dared. She didn’t want to be seen as a nosy person going through the prince’s belongings, but she didn’t have anything from Thranduil to hold on to. She had fought too long, pushing back his love. But when she had fallen for him, she had lost him too soon. He had slipped from her hands like water, leaving her to regret the days that she had pushed him away.

 

She took a deep breath and opened the closet. His clothes were there, nearly all of them. His masculine odor rushed to her nostrils and she closed her eyes from the familiar, lovely scent. She brushed her hands on the familiar tunics, remembering all the occasions he had worn each single one of them. The brown one he had worn in their first music class, the dark blue trainee uniform he used to wear in archery lessons, the green warrior tunic he wore on the patrols. As she reached a black one, tears filled her eyes. This was the tunic he had worn the night he took her. She could still remember the heat his hands produced in her body while worshiping her form. She could still recall the taste of his sugary mouth on hers. She marveled from the sweetness of the memory as she automatically took the tunic out.

The cloth swept across something at the bottom of the closet and made a bunch of papers to fall out and scatter around the floor. Leuthil frowned and sat on the floor to observe them. They were drawings, sketches with Thranduil’s signature on them. She never knew Thranduil had skills in drawing. Oh my love, she thought, you are always full of surprises.

 

Most of them were drawings from the forest, showing each single detail of the trees and the creatures living in them. My dear observer, she thought and smiled at the details he had recorded with much care. She started gathering them from the floor carefully. But then she suddenly hesitated as she found another drawing among them which was a bit different from the others.

 

She hardly suppressed a gasp when she picked it up and looked at it with more attention. It was a drawing from Thranduil himself; as if he had posed for an unknown artist to draw him, and he was unclothed accept for a fabric covering his lower body. He was lying down on a bed with a glass of wine in his hand, looking straight in the eyes of the painter in the most seductive manner, as if he had rose from the bed of a lover just then. The lines were powerful and bold, and the only color on the paper was the red of the wine on his lips. His magnificent muscles, his delicate curves and his soft hair were all drawn in the most splendid way. The artist, whoever he was, had drawn him at his most beautiful state. One could easily think it was a picture of the Valar. The painter was probably Galdor, Leuthil thought as she knew Galdor was supposed to paint a portrait from the prince. This was far different from a decent portrait the king had had in mind though.

 

“I drew that you know…”

The sudden voice made Leuthil jump from her place and turn rapidly, only to see Morey standing behind her. She gathered herself and stood; the drawing still in her hand.

Leuthil had known Morey for a while. She had first met her in the court classes long ago. No-one really liked Morey in those times. She was always mysterious and her unruly sexual relationship with the prince had made her reputation worst. ‘ _The prince’s whore’_ some called her, but she hadn’t cared.

Leuthil didn’t like the fact that the artist had been her but it didn’t surprise her, she knew of her many nights with the prince, and she had had a long time to sink the fact in. Although it did surprise her to see her in the palace again after Thranduil had literally thrown her out.

 

“I didn’t know you had skills in drawing…” she said coldly.

“There are a lot of things you and the others don’t know…” Morey said as she took a step closer to Leuthil. “Including my deep bond with Thranduil…”

 

Leuthil was silent and merely looked at her trying to find suitable words for this intense situation. Morey smirked as she shoved her dark hair out of her face and looked at her with her green eyes.

 

“You think you have him to yourself…” she said. “But you’re wrong…sharing his bed once doesn’t make him yours, my lady…”

 

“He loves me…” Leuthil said harshly, heat rising inside her. “And I love him…” she really did not know why she was explaining herself to this particular elleth, but she made her very uncomfortable.

“Really…?” Morey smirked. “Tell me then, what does he love to be done to him when you make love…?”

Leuhtil felt hot blood rush into her face. This conversation was getting too warm. She turned to leave the room but Morey grabbed her elbow with force and brought her face closer to hers.

“How many scars are there on his body…?” Morey continued calmly. “What color do his eyes turn when he’s on edge…?”

“Fine, I got your point, you’ve spent many nights with him…” Leuthil said calmly with a sarcastic smile. “Yet a one way love doesn’t get you anywhere Morey…”

“Thranduil is mine…” Morey said with clenched teeth, tightening her grip on her elbow. “You are merely a guest in his bed…and you will soon leave.”

“Take your hand of me…” Leuthil said in a loader voice as she struggled out of her hand.

“I will wipe you away from his life if I have to…”

“How dare you threaten me?!”

 

_“Is there a problem ladies?!”_

They both jumped from their catfight with the voice of the princess. She was standing there with a dignity worthy of daughter of Oropher; a true princess of the woodland realm. Despite being the youngest member of the royal family and her natural sweetness, Aleth had the ability to turn into a real lioness when the mood took her. And during the time that she and her mother had become directly responsible for the palace’s affairs she became more and more serious and stern each day and reminded them very much of the king himself.

 

Morey immediately released Leuthil’s arm. Her grip felt sore on her shoulder. Aleth darted her piercing gaze from Morey to Leuthil and then to Morey again.

“I asked if there is a problem?” she said firmly. “Have you eaten your tongues?”

“No my lady…” Morey said as she gave a look at Leuthil. “There’s no problem…”

“Then leave my brother’s room Morey…” the princess ordered harshly. “I do not recall him giving you permission to enter his chamber while he’s away…”

 

Morey said nothing. She merely curtsied at Aleth and left the room. Aleth followed her with her hateful gaze. Then she set her upset eyes on the sketches on the floor.

 

“I’m sorry…” Leuthil said when the princess looked up at her. “I shouldn’t have gone through his personal belongings…”

“No you shouldn’t have…” Aleth said seriously. “Nor should you fight for him in this manner while he’s away on war and he might never return…”

“I was just…I’m sorry…” Leuthil tried to say but her voice broke and she was unable to finish her sentence.

“I understand…” Aleth said in a more tender tone. “You miss him too much…and you are on edge…but you must not argue with that wench, it’s very below you.”

 

Leuthil nodded and sighed as she sat on the floor again, gathering the papers to put them back. Aleth also did the same and helped her in silence.

When everything was back in place Aleth smiled at Leuthil.

“Don’t listen to Morey…” she said. “My brother loves you, and she’s just jealous…she has lost everything, and she blames you.”

“He would’ve written to me if he loved me…” Leuthil murmured. “Perhaps she’s right…I’ve not received a single line from him…how can I say he loves me?”

“This war is worst than anything anyone of us had thought Leuthil…” Aleth said seriously. “Surely there is little time to write love letters in the plains of Mordor…”

Leuthil dropped her head. She felt like an annoying elfling when Aleth talked like that.

“You’re right…I shouldn’t be so selfish.” she whispered. “I just miss him too much.”

“I know you do…” Aleth said as she hugged her lifetime friend. “This will finally be over…one way or the other.”


	14. Chapter 14

When Thranduil and his small group of soldiers reached the desolated battle field, they found nothing but ash and dust, and countless dead bodies covering the earth; orcs and elves.

 

Thranduil was the first to dismount. Breathless from the scene, terrified from what he knew had happened. How could Oropher ignore the plans? It was so unlike him to take all these soldiers to their death just to show his authority to the other captains. But again it was so uncharacteristically of him to have mistaken the signals…

 

The few soldiers were just standing there, petrified like Thranduil. They all looked at the scene as if it was a group-nightmare and they would all wake up any moment.

There was a sound of a rider approaching. It was Elrond. Thranduil’s mind was not at a state to analyze the reason of his arrival at this desolation…as if he cared. He had probably come to report back to Gil-galad of what their ignorance had caused. He could think about this later, he had more important matters on his hand now.

 

“Find the king…” he ordered the soldiers. They did not move…

Elrond reached them and dismounted. He seemed terribly moved by the horrible view. Good, at least one of them knew what they had done by turning their back on the wood elves.

 

“Did you not hear me…?” Thranduil shouted.

“But my lord…” one of the young soldiers stammered. “There are thousands dead here…how…how can we find the king?”

 

Thranduil did not know what overcame him. He reached for the soldier with a few long steps and grasped his collar violently, shaking him with every word: “I…said…FIND HIM!!!” he yelled as he back handed the soldier in the face and threw him on the ground.

 

The order was clear as was the prince’s mood. They parted in silence, looking at every single dead face that haunted their dreams for the years later. Dead corpses that were once fathers, brothers, husbands or perhaps only a loved one to someone far away from here.

 Thranduil waited for moments, listening to his own deep breathing. As a prince he must have stood there and let the others do their task; Oropher had always said so. But then he realized he was unable to do this. To the soldier’s surprise he joined their search, though no one tried to stop him, not even Elrond who was watching them patiently.

The lord was torn between the right and wrong. Oropher had done a horrible thing. Whether by mistake or on purpose, he had taken these poor soldiers to their death. Some of them were too young. He couldn’t understand why Oropher had charged them before the signal, though he knew that the acts had distracted the enemy’s army. They had thought of the wood elves as easy prays and had charged them only to be slain in by the hands of Oropher’s faithful soldiers…but why, he did not know. There had been no need for this fast act. Gil-galad was furious. They had almost lost the battle because of Oropher’s unpredicted actions and Elrond understood his anger. Gil-galad had been shouting the whole night after the battle, cursing Oropher and his line. When Elrond had headed for the battle field Gil-galad had yelled at him too; telling him to let the wood-elves deal with what they had brought upon themselves.

But Elrond could not help thinking of Oropher’s torn army and his young son. He couldn’t forget the look on his face when he saw his father charge the soldiers from the top of the hill, not being able to do anything. He was so young for this…so young for all of this.

 

 

“My prince…over here”

Thranduil reached Galdor as fast as his sore feet would allow him. There he was…the mighty king of Greenwood, buried under a dead orc. Thranduil pushed the creature off him and gaped for a second at the figure of his father. Oropher was broken. His legs lay with a strange angle to his body; clearly he had been overrun when he had fallen. Several deep bleeding wounds were on his chest and an arrow was buried deep in his abdomen. But when Thranduil grabbed his shoulders with shaky hands, he opened his eyes.

 

“Father…!” Thranduil whispered with a shaky voice. “What have you done to yourself…?”

 

“Bring some water…” Galdor shouted to the soldiers who were petrified by the sight of their king…

Thranduil was surprised to see a smile shape on Oropher’s lips despite all the pain. The soldier came back with a skin of water. Elrond came closer and sat next to Oropher, examining the wounds as Thranduil poured some water in the king’s dried throat. But it was clear that the lord of Imladris could not do anything.

In a normal circumstance Oropher would have woofed Elrond away but now his eyes were locked on Thranduil as if seeing his son for the first time, long pushed back emotions flooding forward.

 

“ _Thranduil_ …” he whispered, tasting his son’s name on his tongue. “My spring…my vigorous spring…”

 

“Hush father…don’t speak… you need to keep your strength.” Thranduil said, trying to sound as if nothing special had happened, as if he didn’t know that he was not able to cure the deadly wounds, as if he hadn’t realized that his father would die soon right there in his arms.

 

“I knew you would come for me…” Oropher whispered, with the same faint smile. Thranduil couldn’t help his tears. They fell across his face and on his father’s armor.

“Of course I came…” he sobbed. “I’ll take you out of here…”

“No!” Oropher clasped his hand. “You need to let me go…”

Thranduil shook his head. “Don’t ask this from me…” Thranduil said shaking hysterically.

“Thranduil, look at me…” Oropher said in a firmer yet shaky voice. “Son, look at me…” he reached Thranduil’s face and turned it in his direction with trembling hands.

“You have an army to take care of…you have a land to go back to…Thranduil…Thranduil listen to me…you have to lead these soldiers…the…the sacrifice is…is done…you just need to open the gate…”

 

That was the moment when Thranduil realized the reason of the early charge. Oropher had taken half of the enemy’s army down along with him. The enemy was weak now. If the gates could be breached, victory would be at hand…this had been on the king’s mind for a long time. He had known it was going to be a suicide attack and that was the reason he had ordered Thranduil away from there.

 

Thranduil moaned from knowing the truth. “Oh father…what have you done?”

“Thranduil…” Oropher choked. “Lead them back… to their… families… when this is over…”

“Don’t talk like that…you’ll be alright…you’ll lead them yourself ada…” Thranduil lied, but his tears that now ran down his cheeks showed the truth he knew inside.

“Thranduil…I’m… dying…” Oropher said in a deadly tone. “You have to let me go…”

Thranduil could only give out sobs as he clenched on his father’s shoulders.

“Ada…don’t do this to me…” he begged.

Oropher pulled out his both blood soaked hands with all the strength he had left and cupped his son’s face.

“Thranduil, you have to promise me something…” he said. “No matter how… hopeless…promise me…that you’ll go back to our lands…to Greenwood…promise me that you won’t die in here…promise me that you’ll survive…”

When Thranduil did not answer, Oropher shook him hard with his weak hands. “Promise me son…” he barked.

“I promise ada…I promise” Thranduil sobbed, tears washing the dirt and ash from his face…

“There is so much I needed to tell you…now it seems too late…” he whispered with a faint smile. “I’m so proud of you ion.”

Oropher coughed out the precious blood he was losing so much of, but then he looked at Thranduil again who was panicking.

“All I wanted in life…was to…protect you…if I’ve hurt you… it wasn’t what I wanted…”

 

Thranduil suddenly realized how he couldn’t bear his father so weak. He wanted him to be as he was, strong, certain and emotionless…like a high mountain; unbreakable. He wanted him to be the stern father he always was. He wanted him to stand tall and reproach him for the bad things he had done…just like he used to.

 

But Oropher was breathless. He closed his eyes and his head fell back on Thranduil’s hand. Thranduil shook him as if it would bring his soul back.

 “Ada…Ada…”

But Oropher did no longer respond.

“No…Adar…no…” Thranduil now sobbed clearly, crying like a child who had been lost in a haunted forest. “Adar…don’t give in…don’t do this to me…”

But all was lost. He put his head on the king’s chest and wept. The other soldiers around him were no better. All were weeping silently. All had lost hope…all were so helpless…

After long moments Elrond stood up. He had to take care of this young prince…young _king_ , if only for tonight. He gestured for Galdor to help him. The steward obeyed despite his own grief.

Together they grabbed Thranduil’s shoulders to pick him up. He instinctively clenched on his father’s armor, protesting to let go. But the force of the two was more.

“No…Please…don’t take him away from me…” he cried, not exactly knowing what he was doing or saying as he struggled in their hands to return to the empty shell that was once his stern father. He wanted to hold on to him forever, he wanted to kiss those hands that had pained and soothed him so many times…he would gladly trade his own life for his.

 

“Come Thranduil…” Elrond said firmly. “He’s not coming back”

“Please…I can’t leave him here… _please_ ” He begged.

“We won’t leave him here my prince” Galdor said, tears running down his own face. “I’ll bring his body to the camp…I promise”

Galdor’s assuring voice seemed to make the prince calmer. Elrond used this moment and pulled Thranduil away from the scene that haunted his dreams for the rest of his life. 

***

They dug a grave for the king as far as possible from the black gate. The people present were not much. Accept from Thranduil and Galdor, there were Holgailion; Oropher’s chief troop commander, Daitrid; the king’s war strategist, Lord Alheru and some other captains which each of them originally leaded legions of 50 out of Greenwood, now they each lead only a handful of men. The number of the captains was many when they had set out of Greenwood. They had all died along with the soldiers under their command, taking down the enemy’s major force with them.

 

They had carried Oropher’s body on a wooden palanquin which was resting on a massive rock while the soldiers dug out the marshy earth.

 

On the other side of the grave stood Lord Elrond, the representative of Prince Amroth and some other lords from the other armies who had come to pay their respect.

 

 Thranduil went closer to his father. He really didn’t seem dead. It was as if he would open his eyes any second and mock him for believing this stupid joke. And then he would lecture him that he shouldn’t believe what he is told so easily.

 But Oropher never opened his eyes. Thranduil touched his face. The stern features he’d known for long years. The prince lowered his head to kiss his father’s temple. The dead skin was cold against his lips. He couldn’t get enough of his scent. He slowly left a trail of sorrowful kisses on the king’s face. He kissed his temple, his high cheek bones, his closed eyes…as his own tears fell upon the face he had never dared to touch even as a child. He ran down his fingers through his father’s silky hair. As an elfling he had always wished to undo the neat braids for the king, but he was never given the permission to. _That is a job for servants not the princes_ , his father had said. Now he could never do that.

 

Alheru came closer. He kissed Oropher’s temple; paying his respect to his king and saying his goodbyes to a lifelong friend. Then he reached for the cold hand and took the king’s ring; a symbolic golden beech leaf that had troubled the king’s children so much in the past. Galdor came closer to take Thranduil away. The prince gave his father a last glance as Alheru covered his face with the white sheet.

 

Soon it was time. Holgailion also came closer and they helped Thranduil lower the king in the grave. It was too surreal; to send someone he loved down in a nasty, dark hole. Childish questions ran through his mind. Would he be cold inside there? Would he be scared? Would he remember me still in the darkness of his grave? Would he forgive me for leaving him here?

 

 Soon they were filling the hole. Thranduil took a shovel and did the same along with the soldiers. They said if he did this himself he would feel better, but there was no comfort in this. There was no rain to put out his burning heart.

 

Holgailion, who was now the eldest among the army started singing a smooth sorrowful song, wishing the king’s soul to be at peace. And after a few minutes there was only the sound of the breeze and the soil being piled up in the grave.

 

When the brief burial was done Daitrid was the first to approach the prince, who was standing with a broken face, and a broken soul. The war strategist kneeled on one knee and kissed Thranduil’s hand.

“Long live the king…” he whispered as he looked Thranduil in the eye, showing him how much he trusted his young king.

Thranduil could not react much. He felt numb, he didn’t know if it was because of the overload of grief or the powerful herbs that Elrond had drugged him with the night before…after Daitrid, Holgailion came closer and kissed his hand giving him full authority, trusting him with their lives. With each one of them bowing he felt a piece of his old self die inside him. With each ‘ _trust’_ he felt the weigh on his shoulders get heavier.

 

After his father’s elder captains, one by one all the other captains of Greenwood the Great came closer, knelt and kissed the hand of their new king, authorizing him as their rightful leader in these forsaken lands.  

Then at last there was only Galdor and Alheru left. Alheru came closer and knelt in front of his former trainee that was now his king. The small princeling that he had trained personally. He kissed Thranduil’s hand and then looked up at him.

“I trust your leadership my king…and I will follow you to whatever end…may you lead us to victory...” he said firmly as he pushed Oropher’s ring in Thranduil’s shaking finger.

Then he raised and took a few steps back, and with a firm load voice he shouted: “Long live the king…”

All captains followed, repeating him and soon the small area was filled with their voices.

 

 

The ash and the heat were too much to tolerate even that far from the mountain, so gradually everyone left for the shelter of their tents. Only Thranduil and Galdor remained along with Elrond on the other side of the grave who was waiting for an opportunity to approach the new king.

Thranduil was just standing there, gazing at the soil that had consumed his father. Memories haunting him down…he felt that his eyes had ran out of tears, there was no sorrow in his heart anymore…only emptiness, as if it was a void place where his heart had once been.

“Thranduil…”

He turned to look at Elrond who was now standing beside him.

“The high king sends his condolences…” Elrond began. Thranduil smirked bitterly. Elrond ignored this. He understood Thranduil too well. “He also wants to know if you are deciding to stay.”

“We will stay…” Thranduil said immediately.

Elrond was surprised as he and Gil-galad were both sure that Thranduil would take his men back.

“Yet under conditions…” Thranduil continued.

“I’m listening…” Elrond said with raised eyebrows.

“I will not have my soldiers fight in the front lines anymore…” he said. “And I want our camp relocated to the higher grounds…”

Elrond lowered his gaze and thought for a few moments. Then he looked back at Thranduil in the eye. “We can manage that…”

Thranduil nodded and turned his gaze again on the grave coughing lightly from the dirt and ash in the air.

“So we shall see you tonight at the commander’s tent…?” Elrond asked.

“I’ll be there…” Thranduil said absentmindedly.

Elrond looked at the grave for a few moments then he sighed. “I never understood Oropher, he was too stern and proud to the level of stubbornness; but he was a great leader and a great king for his people, his death is a great loss…and I’m sorry.”

Thranduil didn’t response. His ears were full of these hollow words. His eyes were sore from weeping. His lungs ached from the painful coughs. And he was exhausted…he was drained.

Elrond turned completely to Thranduil and grabbed his shoulder; taking all his attention, gazing in his sorrowful eyes. 

“I truly _am_ sorry…” He said.

Although his father never liked the Noldor, he had developed a sympathetic feeling towards the Lord of Imladris. Despite his distress he had noticed how Elrond had taken care of him through last night during the time he thought he would lose his mind any second.

“I believe you…” Thranduil finally murmured.

“Go to your tent, your lungs are getting sensitive to this dirty air…You need your strength.” Elrond said as he taped him on the shoulder and headed for his camp.

There were a few moments of silence. Only the sound of the warm wind and time to time coughs of Thranduil broke it.

Galdor slowly came closer and stood in front of Thranduil. He kneeled and kissed Thranduil’s hand.

“I will serve you to my death, my king…if you let me stay along your side…”

Thranduil looked down at him for a few moments. Galdor’s eyes were also tiered, showing lack of sleep and too much distress. His face was dirty with ash and sweat. Thranduil blamed himself. He was the cause that this wood elf was so far away from the woods. He could never truly appreciate his loyalty, and the countless times he had saved him from certain death. He grabbed the steward’s shoulder and pulled him to his feet.

“Look at me…” he said, and he waited until he had Galdor’s eyes fixed on his. “You are my friend…my brother…” he grabbed Galdor’s shoulder firmly. “If you choose to remain with me I will be the luckiest king…I need my brother on my side.”

“I’ll stay on your side forever…” Galdor said firmly. “I will die for you…”

Thranduil smiled to that, something Galdor hadn’t seen on his face for ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will you kindly spare me some comments, so I know what the hell I am doing!!!! PLEASE!


	15. Chapter 15

Leuthil rubbed her eyes and looked back at the papers in front of her, summing the numbers again for what seemed like the hundredth time. She pitied Aleth for being responsible for the palace’s finances during war. She had been on this post for just a couple of days and she felt she could fade any second. She wished that Aleth would soon get back to her normal job and relieve her of the duty, but then guilt swept over her.

 

 The royal family was in mourning and she just wanted to get over the task. After the letter that had arrived from the battle field, bringing the news of the king’s death, it seemed that all the affairs of the realm had stopped. There were black banners raised all through the land in grief for the beloved king. The royal family had retreated deep into the palace halls, each into their own solitude. The queen had not been seen for days and everyone feared for her health.

 

Leuthil felt a great heaviness in her heart. The king’s death was almost unbelievable. He was the elected ruler of the silvan; the only ruler that was obeyed not because he was king, but because the people wanted to obey him. It seemed that all of the wood-elves had lost their father.

 

 She could not stop thinking about Thranduil. What burden he was taking now… Loss of his father, loss of his friends…and a torn army to manage.

Unable to continue her task she stood and went out of the office heading for the kitchen. She fetched some food and headed for Aleth’s chamber.

The palace’s corridors were deserted. It seemed too dim, too sorrowful. Even the torches in the hallways seemed not as bright as before. After a knock Leuthil entered Aleth’s room.

 

The princess was sitting on her bed in a black mourning dress. Her usual cheerful eyes were red with tears but when she saw Leuthil in the doorway she greeted her with a faint smile.

Leuthil also smiled at her.

“I brought some food…” she said.

“I truly can’t eat anything Leuthil…” Aleth said disgusted.

“That’s not your choice anymore princess.” Leuthil said as she sat next to her and handed her a light sandwich. “You need to keep your strength, your mother needs you.”

“My _mother_?” Aleth said bitterly. “Let me know if you see her around…” 

“Aleth…the queen is suffering a great loss.” Leuthil said. “You can’t expect her to recover so soon…”

“She doesn’t even want to see me…” Aleth said as her eyes filled with tears again. “I fear she might be fading…”

“She won’t” Leuthil said firmly. “She still has you and the prince…”

Aleth nodded as if only wanting Leuthil to stop talking and took a small bite of the food. Leuthil smiled at her and caressed her hair tenderly.

“Everything will be better mellon-nin.” Leuthil said, not believing her own words. “We’ll all be fine…”

“But my ada will never return…” Aleth said choking with tears.

 

Leuthil did not know what to do, or say. She had lost a parent once, but she had always known it was not permanent. She had always taken comfort in the fact that her mother was safe in Valinor, and she might even see her again. So she really did not know how to comfort Aleth. Leuthil just pulled herself closer to her and embraced the sobbing princess.

A few minutes passed in silence before there was a knock on the door and Miklovand entered.

He was an introvert person by nature but, losing his only supporter, he had retreated even more into himself after the king’s death. Leuthil even pitied him sometimes. He was definitely going through rough times.

“Ladies…” he said bitterly.

“My lord…” Leuthil curtsied.

“What is it Miklovand…?” Aleth said worriedly. “Is everything alright? Is my mother fine?”

“Yes my lady…” he said calmly. “The queen wants to see us…”

 A wide smile claimed Aleth’s lips and she threw the sandwich away and passed Miklovand without any word. Leuthil smiled at her slight happiness.

“Her majesty has also asked for you, lady Leuthil…” Miklovand said, gesturing for her to go with them.

Despite her surprise she obeyed and followed him.

When the doors to the royal chambers opened Aleth ran to her mother and embraced her tightly. She burst out in tears on the queen’s shoulder.

 

Leuthil felt sorry to see the marvelous Queen Harma like that. She was wearing a black dress with long tight sleeves. Her hair was tied at the back of her head unlike the custom of elves, her skin was pale and she had grown sickly thin and she looked old; very old.

 

After Aleth broke, the queen smiled at her and cupped her face. Not a single drop of tear left Harma’s eyes. Leuthil marveled at the strength of her. She was so different from all of them, even from her own daughter who was literally terrified from the situation. She was a real queen.

 

“Naneth…” Aleth sobbed. “What’s going to happen to us…?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to us…” the queen said firmly, almost harshly. “ _Thranduil_ still stands…there is still hope.”

Aleth nodded and dropped her head, almost apologetically. Leuthil felt her heart swell by the mention of his name. He was the hope of the realm now…he was the light that would fight away their darkness.

 

“Thranduil has sent a list of the deceased…” the queen said handing a parchment to Aleth. “I want you to arrange meetings with each one of their families, I will be attending personally.”

Aleth took the parchment and gasped from the length of the list when she opened it.

“I know…” the queen said as she shook her head regretfully. “Too many have fallen along with the king…”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the meeting with their families?” Miklovand said carefully. “Perhaps the prince would want to do this himself.”

“No we shall not wait, for he’s not returning soon…” Harma said as she turned towards Miklovand. “Thranduil has chosen to remain with the armies of the alliance.”

“What?!” Miklovand said suddenly as his eyes widened with surprise. “But he cannot do that!”

“Why not?” The queen said coldly. “Is there a problem with that?”

“My queen you know this better than me…” Miklovand said desperately. “He’s not at all capable of leading an army, a torn army I might say; especially in a war like this…he’ll lead them all to death.”

A heavy silence fell upon the room after his harsh words. The queen turned threateningly towards Miklovand, holding his gaze evenly.

“And what makes you qualified for such a judgment, may I ask?” She said as unkindly and coldly as she could.

Miklovand fell silent but held the queen’s gaze. He knew he had gone too far in criticizing Thranduil. Now that he had lost Oropher, he should learn to hold his tongue.

“He is not your childhood challenger Miklovand…he is your ‘ _king’_ now…” the queen said firmly. “He is _OUR_ king, and we should respect and obey what he decides…and _never_ question it.”

Miklovand dropped his gaze. “Yes my lady…” he finally managed after long moments.

 

The queen pierced him with her glare for a while before she reached for another sealed parchment on her desk and handed it to him. He looked at her with questioning eyes.

“Thranduil has sent you a letter…” the queen explained.

Miklovand took the parchment doubtfully and broke the seal. He read for a few moments, his dark eyes running along the lines.

“He has given orders for the patrols around the capital to continue as normal…” he explained and then raised his eyebrows. “He has also given me his condolences for the loss of the king.” he said surprised. “So unlike him…”

The queen sighed and rolled her eyes.

“He’s not as heartless as you think…” Aleth said kindly. “Ada was your father too…”

Miklovand remained silent.

 

“You two may leave now…I’m done with you…” the queen said darting her eyes from Miklovand to Aleth.

Aleth hugged her mother again before leaving and Miklovand bowed.

The queen turned to Leuthil after the door was closed behind them.

“Majesty…Please, accept my condolences…” Leuthil said. “I really don’t know what to say…”

The queen smiled warmly and came closer.

“I must thank you Leuthil…” she said. “For being there for Aleth when I couldn’t…”

“I wished I could’ve done more…” Leuthil said.

“I know you did…” Harma said as she tenderly cupped Leuthil’s face for a while. “We have to be strong. That’s all we can do for Thranduil…”

Leuthil nodded and dropped her gaze. The mere mention of his name made her heartbeat rise.

“He has sent you a letter…” the queen said kindly.

Leuthil felt her insides fall to the floor. So he had been thinking about her after all. And despite all the tragedy he had been going through he had written to her. The queen smiled at her when she looked up at her with wide eyes filled with tears of joy.

Harma picked up another sealed parchment from her desk but before handing it to Leuthil she hesitated.

“My dear… do not think that you have to pledge yourself to my son just because he loves you…” the queen said seriously. “This war will change his life, the responsibilities will change who he is…he will no longer be the prince you remembered. He will be the king of a weak land when he returns…that is of course ‘ _if’_ he returns…”

Leuthil looked up at her. “He will return…” she murmured. “He promised…”

The queen shook her head. “We do not wish to believe it but it is the truth Leuthil…” she said. “Thranduil might never return, just like the king…”

The lump in her throat made the queen silent and her eyes filled with tears. Sending both her loved ones to war and losing one already had made her too weak.

“Leuthil…” she finally managed with a shaky voice. “You have chance for a normal life away from Thranduil…” she said. “You might want to consider it…”

“There is no life without him…” Leuthil said gravely.

The queen gazed at her for long moments. Then she nodded and handed her the parchment.

“You may leave dear…” she said as she turned towards the window, where she would gaze upon the woods for hours, remembering her departed love that had been the king of these lands not long ago.

***

Thranduil and Galdor passed the guards and entered the commander’s tent. There was a huge table in the middle, with a massive map on it. Gil-galad and Elrond were present along with some other elven captains Thranduil had seen no more than a few times. Prince Amroth was supposed to be there since he had to replace his father but he had been severely injured himself. Thranduil came to a halt before the table and lowered his head slightly for Gil-galad.

“My lord…” he said.

“You’re late…” Gil-galad barked without raising his head from the map.

Thranduil felt himself heat up. This definitely was not a good start. And he definitely was not in a mood to be blamed for such unimportant matters.

“Forgive me my lord Gil-galad…I had _thousands_ to burry.” Thranduil said sarcastically.

His tone made Gil-galad raise his head and the others to exchange meaningful looks. He wouldn’t let anyone treat him like a naughty elfling who had been late for a literature class. Not even the high king.

“Come now, we’re going over the plan for tomorrow’s battle…” Gil-galad said in a more respectful tone.

Thranduil stepped closer to the table and listened silently as the lords discussed the battle plan. It was quite simple. Line up before the black gate until the enemy decides to come out and fight. This had been the strategy for nearly a year now, after the first battles that had resulted in their defeat. Sometimes the enemy came out with its forces; sometimes they did not.

 What Gil-galad had hoped for was to wait the enemy out. It had seemed a good idea at first but it now seemed that instead of the enemy, the armies of the alliance were getting weaker within each day. This tactic had been the subject of Oropher’s argument with Gil-galad the night before he died. Perhaps it had made Oropher so restless that he had rather do the things his way.

 

“My lord…” Thranduil said between one of Gil-galad’s pauses. “With all due respect, I do not believe this strategy will work anymore.”

A deadly silence fell upon the meeting.

“What do you mean _‘it won’t work’_ ?” Gil-galad asked impatiently.

“I believe that you know the number of enemy’s troops has decreased to nearly half after yesterday’s battle of the wood elves.” Thranduil emphasized on the word ‘ _wood elves’_ to keep the credit for them. “The enemy has lost too much, they will not come forth anymore…it’s clear that they will hide behind their high Gate…”

Elrond was listening very carefully but Gil-galad rolled his eyes as if he was forced to deal with a very brainless elfling.

“War is upon them…they will come out.” He said harshly.

“They have the Black Gate to shield them, they are smart enough to stay inside…if we line up in front of the gate we will only be target to their arrows; we will only lose more men…they have learned our tactic by now.”

Gil-galad sighed impatiently and glared at him. “You talk as if you and your kin care if the soldiers die. Your father took down thousands with him when he put his mindless stubbornness into action…”

Thranduil closed his eyes for a second, trying to push the rage that was overcoming him. It was hard to listen to these harsh words about his father while his wounds were still fresh; the grief still so close. And he was a bad tempered royalty from the beginning. He went a step closer to Gil-galad. Everyone tensed as they knew the hot-temper which ran through the line of Oropher. What they also knew was that Gil-galad had tapped a very dangerous vein by mentioning Oropher like that, and the high king himself was not in the right mood tonight.

“My king also took down half of the enemy’s forces along with him. He charged, and did what you didn’t have the heart to do…” Thranduil said in a dangerously low tone.

“He was a brainless fool; I would have never done such a thing nor would I have ever participated in that madness... “Gil-galad raised his voice.

 “Do not insult my father!!!”

Thranduil’s voice was firm and much louder than Gil-galad’s. The two glared at each other like tigers ready to tear each other apart. But Elrond used the brief silence and regarded Thranduil.

“Lord Thranduil you speak as if you have another plan; is it so?” he said calmly.

“I do…” Thranduil answered not leaving Gil-galad’s gaze. “Yet it needs more courage, and less conservativeness.”

There were exchanging looks in the tent but Elrond ignored.

“We are listening, my lord…” Elrond encouraged him.

“I believe we have waited enough for the gates to open up… they won’t” Thranduil said matter-of-factly. “We must breach the gate and force it open.”

Gil-galad smirked. “And how do you suggest we do that…?”

Thranduil opened his mouth to answer but Gil-galad interrupted again. “Please!!!!” he said with another smirk and raised his hand. “I am not listening to this nonsense.”

“I know a way we can do it…” Thranduil said desperately.

Gil-galad came a few steps closer and looked him in the eye. He reminded Thranduil so much of Oropher, when he wanted to fix something in Thranduil’s rebellious mind he would come this close to him and pierce him with his gaze, just like that.

“My lord Thranduil; you are new, and you are young…I understand your enthusiasm… but I will not take the men on another suicide attack…” Then he turned away from Thranduil. “The armies will line up before the Black gate at daybreak, that’s final.”

Thranduil hesitated for a moment. He had to risk or they would all lose everything. On the other hand he had been too insulted to just ignore.

“My lord Gil-galad, I am sure you do recall the circumstances in which Greenwood joined you in this war…” He then said in a dangerously calm voice.

Elrond raised his dark eyebrows as Gil-galad turned to look at Thranduil as if looking at a rat that had fallen in a barrel of oil.

“What are you saying?”The high king barked.

“I am saying that you do not command me as the king of Greenwood, nor do you command my troops…” Thranduil continued firmly.

Gil-galad came dangerously closer, his eyes burning with anger. He stood inches from Thranduil.

“What are you saying Oropherion?!” he repeated in an immoral tone.

“I am the _king_ of the woodland realm, and you need to acknowledge it. I understand your anger towards my late king but if you do not respect me enough to hear what I have to say, then my men will not stand with you tomorrow…”

The silence was deadly. Never had anyone done this to the high king. Oropher always had his arguments but disobeying and blackmailing the chief commander was too much.

 Gil-galad came even closer, looking Thranduil in the eyes as if he could shove a knife in his heart. Thranduil could feel his unsteady breath on his face.

“Are you blackmailing me, you little brat?”

Thranduil looked at him evenly ignoring the insult.

“No my lord, I do not waste my time with that…” he said. “The sacrifice is done, the enemy is weak…this is the time to put aside the old tactics and breach the gate. If we wait passively for it to open we’ll just give them time to renew themselves. Yet you do not have the respect nor the balls to even listen to me…I will have my word heard, or my men won’t be at your side tomorrow…you thought of my father’s action as unwise and therefore you stayed in the security of your camps and watched as the sons of Greenwood fell like leaves in the wind. Well now, I think of your plan _unwise_ …we will stay in our camps and watch; just as you did.”

Thranduil then gave a slight ironic bow and turned away from the furious Gil-galad and the shocked company.

“You are very similar to Oropher and you’re quite fast in picking up your father’s mindless path…” Gil-galad shouted after him, the veins on his neck popping out.”… and you will end up just like him.”

Thranduil halted and turned once more. He felt the flames of his rage go out of control. He paced the distance between them fast and grasped the king’s collar fiercely.

“ _Thranduil_!!” Elrond said in a threatening tone and jumped from his seat as he realized Gil-galad had made this young sorrowful king hysteric; and he knew better that in this state of grief Thranduil was able to do anything.

Some other lords also stood from their places, alert from the intensity of the situation. Elrond grasped Thranduil’s strong hands to release his grip on the high king’s collar. But he failed and Thranduil’s aquamarine eyes were locked on the high king as if he could murder him with his eyes.

“That is where you are mistaking ‘ _my king’_ ; I may be similar to my father and I am proud of it, yet I will not end up like him…you want to know why?” He said with a hysteric chuckle. “Because I’m shrewder, meaner, and much more merciless!”

Gil-galad growled from anger.

“That’s enough Thranduil…” Elrond nearly yelled as he forced Thranduil’s iron grip open. “Get out of here…”

He released Gil-galad’s arm and with a glare stormed out of the tent, leaving breathless captains and a furious king behind.

 

 

 

Galdor followed Thranduil out. For long moments the king walked fast through the camp of Noldor and Galdor followed a few steps behind him, knowing better to disturb him. He could hear Thranduil coughing again, and he could see how he was trying to hide it but his shoulders shook hard revealing the tension. He had refused to tell the healers outside the camp about this; stubbornly not wanting to show any sign of weakness. But after Oropher’s death this creepy sickness of his had become even more severe.

Suddenly to Galdor’s surprise, Thranduil stopped, not being able to walk anymore as he was breathless with the rough coughs.

 

“Sire…” Galdor reached fast enough to catch him from falling on his knees and hands as the hard coughs bent Thranduil’s back. The disturbing sight had taken the attention of some of the Noldor soldiers. Thranduil coughed countless times until he finally vomited a black, thick liquid out. After that he took a deep breath and collapsed on his knees, instinctive tears filling his eyes from the pressure. He leaned on Galdor who was watching him worriedly; breathing heavily.

“Who is he?”

 “Bring some water…”

“Are they wood elves...?”

“They are Silvan…”

 “He must be their captain…”

“Bring water you idiots”

 “Is he not their prince…?”

The voices around him were vague, but then he felt the heat of the metal cup and then the cool water pouring in his sore, dry throat. It had been a long time since he had tasted cool water. All the water supply they had in the camp was warm from the heat and they smelled like dead fish. His visions slowly became sharper. He leaned again on Goldor as the steward helped him stand on his feet. There was a severe ache in his chest and he could feel a flash of pain in his lungs every time he took in the filthy air, but he ignored it.

“Take me to my tent Galdor…” he whispered with a faint voice.


	16. Chapter 16

Leuthil nearly ran out of the queen’s chamber. She struggled with the seal on the parchment with trembling hands, her heartbeat rising. The seal finally broke and she could open the letter. The young elleth did not have the heart to read the words for a long time as she marveled his beautiful handwriting. It had been a long time since she had seen it. She finally took a deep breath and concentrated on the words in front of her;

_Leuthil;_

_My angel;_

_My Lady;_

_There is no sweet way that I can start this letter. I have nothing to tell but grief and pain. Your memories is the only thing that saves me from this hurt. I still remember the first time I saw you in the music class. You were wearing a violet garment, and you were trying to play the harp. Your dark hair had covered your face, your eyebrows tied in a frown and your eyes glittered with concentration. How blind I was then… how did I not see your beauty? How blind I had been all those years…_

_I buried my father yesterday, along with thousands of friends. The marshy grounds of Mordor became their silent grave. At least they have found peace. But there seems to be no peace to shelter me. At nights I see their dead faces, I hear their screams; I see Greenwood burning…I see what they will do to my home if we do not win this war. I will not allow this to happen. I will stay here until the end, even if that means not seeing you again. I will keep you and my people safe; even if that means burying my love for you along with my lifeless body._

_Forgive me for not having the heart to write to you sooner…I had never written a love letter before. I had never been in love like this before…I feel that you have awakened me, from a long nightmare I had learned to call ‘life’…_

_Your thought never leaves me during the endless days in these wastelands, and your face haunts my dreams at nights…_

_I endure with the dream of returning to you, seeing you, feeling you. In my dreams I build a future with you._

_I often think of a day when perhaps I would come back home…What would it be like? Will your heart still be mine after all these years? Would you be waiting for me? Would you spread your wings and hide me from all the ugliness in the world? Only time will tell…only time._

_Still, I need you to know that I love you and no matter who enters your life, I will love you more than all of them. I love every pore, every inch, every line…every warm, wet piece of you…that you allowed me to taste, just once…and I reverie of the memory still._

_I love you instead of all those whom I never knew. I love you instead of all the times that never lived. Because of the scent of warm bread, and the snow that melts in the springs of our home. And because of the first sin I took with you. I love you because of love. I love you instead of all those whom I never loved._

_Thranduil_

 

Leuthil dropped on her knees against the wall and closed her eyes. Tears ran down her face. She did not know if they were tears of joy, or sorrow, or love. She huddled herself against the wall and cried…

***

Galdor sat beside Thranduil for long hours, trying to calm him with warm water, hoping that somehow he would go to sleep and the heavy cough and the scary vomits would stop. This was the syndrome that had been seen in a few other soldiers in the camp. The elves don’t get sick so it was very strange. The healers couldn’t do anything. They didn’t even know what this black, disgusting substance was that poured out of his swollen lungs. Gradually after several disgusting throw ups it did stop. But the young king was restless. Galdor knew that he was probably feeling the same severe pain in his lungs that the rest of them did but Thranduil didn’t complain. He just rested his head on a tent’s shaft with closed eyes, breathing heavily. 

 

“You’re even more miserable than me Galdor!” Thranduil croaked bitterly as he glanced at the concerned steward.

Galdor merely looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “You’re the one coughing out mire, and you call me miserable!?”

“I will be the first elf to die with sickness…” Thranduil continued. “And you’re even more pathetic to be forced to take care of such a pitiful creature.”

“Hush…” Galdor said and frowned. “Stop your self-pity…You’ll be alright.” Though he had no idea how!

“Go to your bed and take some rest Galdor…you need some sleep…” Thranduil said with a gloomy voice.

“I’m fine sire…yet I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine Galdor…you need not worry.”

“This is serious my lord, you cannot go on like this…”

Thranduil didn’t have the strength to argue, so he just closed his eyes again. He suddenly realized how exhausted he was. How emotionally and physically drained he had become. All the cells in his body ached and he craved for a peaceful sleep. But he knew he could not sleep even if he tried to. A few moments past in silent until Galdor broke it.

“The thing you said today…to Gil-galad…” he said slowly. “That wasn’t wise.”

“You sound like my father…” Thranduil said with his eyes still closed.

Galdor went silent. Although being Thranduil’s friend, companion and steward for long years he didn’t know what to say or how to behave anymore. They had never planned for this. Thranduil had never planned to become a king nor had he planned of being the closest to the _king_ version of Thranduil in the middle of Mordor.

A guard pulled the tent’s entrance. “My king, lord Elrond wishes audience.”

Thranduil’s eyes jerked open, and he gave Galdor a meaningful look. He stood with all the might he had left and pulled his damp hair away from his brow. Then he nodded at the guard.

Elrond entered. Thranduil couldn’t help himself envying his better health.

“My lord Elrond…what brings you here at this hour…?” Thranduil asked respectfully as he tried to hide the crack in his voice and struggled to keep himself steady.

Elrond observed the elf in front of him. Although Thranduil had become much different due to the circumstances he was still breathtakingly beautiful. But Elrond couldn’t help but feel sorry. Although still stunning, this wasn’t the glorious prince he remembered from Greenwood the great; wearing magnificent clothes, playing angelic music and flirting with every girl on the face of Arda. His hair had become dry, dirty and dull; his face was dark and his eyes didn’t shine anymore; instead they were filled with terror, hate and anger. Pity what this cursed war had done to all of them.

“May we speak alone?” Elrond asked.

Thranduil nodded and Galdor left them with a bow.

“Please have a seat.” Thranduil said and took a skin of water and poured some in two cups.

“I’m sorry; we have no drink but stinking water that I can offer you my lord…”

“It’s alright Thranduil…” Elrond said understandably.

 

There was this strange feeling that Thranduil felt each time Elrond called him in his own given name. Oropher had always called him “My prince” or “Your Grace” in the court and this was the same feeling that his father used to pour into him when he called him by his name in special occasions. He had become so needful of a comforting parent…he pushed the thought away…

Thranduil handed the cup to Elrond and sat in front of him. “So tell me my lord…what can I do for you…”

“I’m here to listen to the rest of what you were saying before you were interrupted.” Elrond said.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

“…you said you had a plan to breach the gate.” Elrond encouraged him. “I want to know your plan.”

“Why?” Thranduil smirked. “It’s not like it matters to your king…”

“Gil-galad is angry and you must understand it. He’s gentler in a normal circumstance. But you were both a bit on edge tonight.” Elrond explained emotionlessly. “If I judge your plan worthy; perhaps I can convince the high king.”

Thranduil looked at him for a few seconds; trying to decide if he could trust him. 

“Hooks” he finally said. “My plan is “ _Hooks_ ””

When he saw Elronds raised eyebrows he stood and searched in a pile of papers on the table; coughing lightly again in the mean time. He was becoming unable to push away the annoying coughs or hide his pained faced as the ache flashed in his chest. He finally found what he wanted and handed a piece of parchment to the lord. There was a sketch of a four-blade hook on it, drawn with specific detail.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I was going to show it to my king, but time did not allow us…I designed these myself…These hooks are easy to make with the simple tools we posses…I’ve talked to the smiths and they said they could fix the head on a metal arrow which is designed specially to go long distances.” He said as he handed another parchment to the Elrond, showing the design of the arrows with significantly larger feathers on the end. “We have located spots that with the huge bows we have; we can shoot them high enough to reach the top of the gate. If our allies rain the orcs with their arrows from the back we can get enough time to climb up. If my soldiers reach the top; we can fight those orcs that control the trolls that move the gate. If we defeat them, we can force the gates open…and… the armies can get inside.” 

Elrond frowned. “Thranduil, the gate is too high for your men to climb…”

“We climb trees before we learn to walk my lord…” Thranduil said firmly. “We are wood-elves. We can manage this…” then he cursed himself for the coughs he could not control anymore. He was bent again by the rough pressure and had to hold on the side of the desk.

“Are you alright Thranduil?” Elrond asked worriedly.

“I’m fine” he barked.

Elrond looked at him worriedly but then he looked back at the sketches a few more seconds.

“Do you know if your smiths can manage making enough of these?”

“They said they can make 50 of them in 10 days, which will suffice I believe.”

Elrond took his time examining the parchment again while Thranduil was struggling to stop the coughing again.

“I’ll be back …” Thranduil finally said, and ran out of the tent as quickly as he could.

Three steps further he dropped on his knees again and vomited the horrible black liquid. He sat there for a while, his body shaking in pressure and his eyes filled with tears he could not suppress. He had become so weak and he hated his body for it.

 

“How long has _this_ been going on…?”

It was Elrond’s voice that startled him. He had followed him out. Thranduil was too tired to gather himself up and put on the _“I’m fine”_ mask again.

“For a while…” he said simply. “There are also some others in the camp with the same issue…” he continued as he rose to his feet rejecting Elrond’s hand for help.

“Your body is rejecting the filth…” Elrond said thoughtfully as if studying a very interesting case.

“Pardon?!”

“This air Thranduil; it’s full of ash, and dust, and Valar knows what other filthy substances. With every breath, we take in this dirt. Your lungs are probably filled with it and your body is rejecting.”

“Well” Thranduil said with a smirk. “This is more pitiful than I thought; I would have preferred a quicker death.” 

“Of course you _will_ die if you continue your stubbornness and don’t do something about it…” Elrond said angrily. “But I will not allow it…I’ll send some herbs to you tonight, they will be enough for your soldiers too, drink them and it will take the filth out to some extent.”

He looked around the camp and continued: “I believe we should arrange for the location of the Greenwood camp to change as you said…we truly never realized the filth in the air down here.”

Thranduil nodded.

“I should hurry back to our camp…” Elrond continued. “I have a very heated Gil-galad to convince and a battle to stop.” He winked at Thranduil.

Thranduil couldn’t believe what he heard. His eyes widened and his mouth slacked open. He could just manage a smile then. Elrond chuckled at his sheepish expression.

“Those herbs that I’ll send you are not very delicious…yet you HAVE to drink them…we cannot afford losing a brain as yours!” he said tenderly.  

Thranduil’s smile broadened and as the lord of Imladris headed for his own camp; the king of Greenwood felt a nice lightness in his weary heart.

 


	17. Chapter 17

_`***The party was the biggest feast Doriath had seen in many years. The beloved young Oropher was getting married to one of the most beautiful girls of the realm. All the people were invited. Foods, drinks, music, dance; happiness was in the air. But the most joyful was the bride herself._

_Wearing dark crimson robes and a golden tiara Oropher had given to her as a wedding gift she was the star of the night. Although her marriage to Oropher was arranged she had fallen in love with him deeply from the first moment. She had also taken Oropher’s heart, and now there was nothing left of the aversion she had first felt for an arranged marriage. She loved him…and now she wanted this._

_After what seemed like a whole day of celebration Harma told him that she wished to retreat to the chambers as she was so tired.  She was granted with a smile from the handsome groom. “Go my dear, I will join you shortly”_

_She could feel her heart beat so fast when she was walking to the chamber; the largest one of the palace that was supposed to be her private room with Oropher, her love. She did not know it then that she would be moving from that place in a while…she did not know that she would be the queen of a new realm shortly._

_When she sat on the stool in front of the mirror, she realized how different she had become from the girl she was a few days ago. Oropher had taken her away to another life the day he had finally told her that he loved her. He had taken her fears away. He was strong, unbreakable and the safety he brought to her could not be described._

_She jumped from the sound of the door being locked behind her. When she turned she found Oropher who had just locked the wooden door, preventing anyone from disturbing them. The room was half dark. She could still hear the fireworks outside which lighted the face of her love from time to time. He was handsome, yet he smiled rarely. But when he did it filled her heart with joy._

_She stood up while Oropher walked closer to her. He stared at her face for long seconds, and then he moved his hand along her hair. Then he embraced her, kissing her hair and neck, holding her tight. Harma thought that her heart might burst out of her chest any second as the most handsome male being she had ever seen was tempting her so professionally. She had not cared then if Oropher was a normal ellon, or a king. She just loved him. She wanted to be his. One day she dreamed of giving him children as beautiful as he._

_“I can hear your heartbeat.” Oropher whispered. Then he looked at her face that was blushing with embracement and laughed. “Are you afraid of me Harma?” He asked still chuckling softly._

_“No I am not!” She said firmly._

_He frowned in a joke. “Then why are you trembling?”_

_Angry with her body that had betrayed her she said the truth. “Because I love you so much…”_

_Oropher’s face opened to a wide smile and then he kissed her passionately taking her away from the feast outside to the calm sensation in his arms.***_

The queen woke up from her dream with a gasp, her body stiff from lack of movement. She had fallen sleep on the rocking chair. The royal chamber was dark as night had fallen. She sat up straight and when she touched her face she felt her own tears.

 

Years had passed since the news of Oropher’s fall had reached them. Yet she had not been able to cope. She had visited every single family of the fallen soldiers and she had appeared strong; just as the king would have wanted. But in the solitude of her room, she cuddled herself in a chair and fell into the shadows of her bitter reverie.

 

She had only endured because of Thranduil. Many nights she still awoke in fear that she might lose him too. She had cursed herself countless times for letting the king take her son away with him.

 

 

So long it had been, so many years she had not seen her son’s face. She had become weak. She had gone drained of love. How much she had to give and gain none in return. The only thing keeping her from fading was the concern she still had for Thranduil, or perhaps the hope that she would maybe see him again one day, hold him, kiss him…

 

The knock on the door made the queen jump. She rose from her seat and while lighting some candles she called for the person to enter.

Miklovand opened the door and bowed.

“My lady…”

“Miklovand” the queen said with a smile. “Come in dear…”

 

He came inside and shut the door behind him. He looked at the queen for some moments, the lady who had accepted him as her own child years ago. He still remembered the nights that Harma read bedtime stories for him, just as she did for Thranduil. But as they had grown up the conflict between the two had caused distance between the queen and him. But still he cared for her. She was Oropher’s treasure, left to him for safekeeping. 

 

“Have you been crying my lady…?” Miklovand said tenderly, gazing at her puffy red eyes.

The queen did not answer but only dropped her gaze and pretended to be occupied with the candles.

 

Miklovand went a few steps closer and stood beside her; he held her shoulders and turned her towards himself. “My lady…” He whispered and embraced her.

Harma was surprised from the sudden compassion but welcomed it anyway as she wept freely on her foster son’s hard chest. It seemed that the distance of years shattered for a few seconds.

 

After a few moments she felt lighter and broke the embrace. She wiped away her tears and smiled at him. 

 

“I didn’t expect to see you back soon…I thought you were patrolling around the capital.” She said changing the mood.

“I was…” he said lifting his hand to show a piece of parchment. “Until I received this form the battle field.”

“What is it?” the queen asked anxiously, all her body cramped in fear.

“I do not know…” He said. “It’s sealed for you, so I didn’t open it.”

 

The queen took the parchment with shaky hands, her mind racing. What if Thranduil was hurt? What if they were defeated? What if her son had fallen just like the king?

She struggled a few seconds with the seal until she broke it. Her eyes ran across the lines fast and after a few moments she looked up at Miklovand…and then she smiled.

***

The sounds from the soldier’s camp had changed dramatically. Instead of their weeping or sorrowful music all one could hear was the soldier’s loud laughter and joy. The idea of finally returning home had taken away the sorrow of the heavy losses, if only for a few hours.

 

As Elrond walked through the camp of the wood elves he was greeted by wide smiles and cheerful faces who congratulated each other for the definite victory. They have every right to be joyful he thought.

He remembered how these sons of Greenwood had charged for the gate with no fear after Thranduil’s heartening words. _‘ True Immortality lies behind this gate, breech it; gain it…so history would remember how valiant the sons of Greenwood are…no flame can burn us, for we are the sun itself.’_ The young king had said. His men had climbed the hooks as if climbing the trees of their own land and they had slain the enemy above the gate with no mercy.

 Elrond shivered from the memory of the moment the Black gate was forced open, the terrifying sight of mount Doom and the land of the dark lord. He knew it then that this was the beginning of the end. He had felt pride that he had been the one supporting that reckless plan.

 

“My lord Elrond…”

He turned towards Galdor who was approaching him with a wide smile. He reached the lord and bowed respectfully.

“Galdor…” Elrond tapped him on the shoulder. “I am looking for your king…”

“I haven’t seen him for a couple of hours, my lord…” Galdor said. “I believe he’s gone to the grave site.”

Elrond nodded and tapped him again on the shoulder before he headed for where Oropher was buried.

 

 

Thranduil was standing beside the king’s grave, the unmerciful earth that had taken away his father. The soil had gone down a bit and it made his stomach turn. They had won the war but he did not feel even the slightest joy. He had lost…he had lost everything; his friends, his father…and his youth. This was no victory for him…

‘ _Thinking’_ was his most powerful enemy. If he let in the thoughts he would go crazy. Still he could not believe he was not going to see Oropher again. He had already forgotten his father’s voice; no matter how much he tried, he could not remember it. It was making him mad. He was feeling so much at once; regret, sorrow, guilt…he could explode any second. So many words he wanted to tell him. So many things he needed him to know. It was late now…too late.

“I held my promise ada…” he sighed in the air, as if Oropher was standing beside him and could hear. “I’m taking them back home...”

 

 

Elrond came down to the graves. It was deserted accept for Thranduil who was standing there with folded arms and eyes that were staring at a point on the ground that Elrond could swear did not exist. His loneliness broke the lord’s heart as he went close to the king.

 

Elrond gently grabbed Thranduil’s shoulder and whispered his name so that he would not startle him out of his reverie. Theanduil turned to face him.

“My lord…” he lowered his head in respect. Elrond easily caught the glimpse of surprise in his eyes which he pushed away.

“How are you…?” the lord whispered judging every line in the youth’s face.

“I’m…fine…” Thranduil said; though his voice broke and he looked away from Elrond.

A few moments passed in silence.

“Is there something I can do for you my lord…” Thranduil finally asked annoyed by Elrond’s constant gaze.

 

Elrond nodded as he took out a dagger and held it in front of Thranduil. When he looked, Thradnuil immediately recognized the emerald stones on the handle and it made his insides fall.

 

“I found this on the battle field…” Elrond explained. “I believe it belonged to your father…”

It took Thranduil a few moments to take the dagger from the lord. When his numb fingers touched the handle he smiled.

“It was a gift from my mother…on the day of his coronation.” He said in a shaky voice. “When we had thought things were getting better…”

Then he chuckled hysterically as he tried to suppress the lump in his throat.

“He threatened to cut off my elfhood with it once when I took him on his mood…”

 

He looked away from Elrond as his tears threatened to flood out. Elrond said nothing. He knew Thranduil was not in a normal state. He knew the young king was going through a terrible emotional turmoil. He wanted Thranduil to empty himself but he did not know how. So he just waited for him to open up himself.

 

“He never told me he loved me, you know…” Thranduil whispered after long moments, keeping his unfocused gaze on the marshy ground. “He never kissed me or held me…he never looked at me the way father’s do…” he said shakily. “But still, it feels so wrong to leave him here….”

 

“Thranduil…” Elrond whispered as he held both of his shoulders. “Do not feel guilty for this; your father is not here…His fae has found his way to peace long ago…”

Thranuil looked up with eyes full of sorrow. “Or perhaps that’s just a superstition to keep our hopes up…” he whispered.

 

Elrond said nothing. It was the truth that he had doubted these beliefs a thousand times himself. War was indeed a place one could easily doubt any faith he had had. But what could he tell him? He was relieved when Thranduil spoke again with a shaky voice.

 

“I would’ve gladly traded the result of this war with his life…” Thranduil whispered innocently and then looked up at Elrond with guilt. “Does that make me evil…?”

Elrond gazed at him for a few seconds. Had he not felt this way himself a hundred times? Wishing the dead ones to return. Willing to trade the victorious result of this war for their return to the land of the living...

“No…” he finally whispered. “I don’t think it does…”

Then he patted Thranduil’s shoulder gently.

“Come now…” he said with a smile as he leaded him towards the camp. “ Home is waiting…”

His heart was lifted when he saw a faint smile on Thranduil’s lips.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update! enjoy and don't forget to comment :-)

It was agreed that the soldiers of Imladris would stay in Greenwood for a few days before departing for their own home. Since Gil-galad’s fall Elrond was leading them back with a heavy heart and he was happy from Thranduil’s generous offer. Who would have thought that one day the king of the wood elves would be friends with the leader of Noldor…

He was riding side by side with Thranduil as they approached the borders of the great forest. Elrond got worried when Thranduil closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards as he took in quiet a gasp but the king’s smile was assuring. 

 

“Are you alright Thranduil…?” Elrond asked.

 

Thranduil was silent for a few seconds before he answered. “I can hear the trees…” he sighed.

 

Elrond marveled at the fact. So it was true that these mystical woods had a deep connection with their rightful king. He had heard tales that the true king of the woodland realm could talk to the trees, hear all the creatures in the deep green and feel the rivers running as if in his own veins. Now with Oropher’s death, the forest was calling to her new king.

 

“What do they say…?” Elrond asked with a smile.

Thranduil finally opened his eyes and looked back at him. “They say welcome brothers…”

 

Elrond could not wonder more in the fact when he was distracted by joyful cries of the wood elves that were dropping their positions in the lines and running towards the woods of their beloved land; embracing the trunks of the trees.

 

“There’s no wonder you are called wood elves…” Elrond teased.

 

Thranduil smiled as he watched the lucky ones of his army run to the trees like crazies. “I’m happy they’ll be returning to their loved ones…” he said. “They have lost too much these years.”

 

“Speaking of loved ones…” Elrond said mischievously. “Is there going to be a girl waiting for you Thranduil…?”

Thranduil smiled again and dropped his head almost shyly.

 

“Ah…she’s that lovely lady of yours I saw once, isn’t she?” Elrond encouraged and chuckled from the sight of Thranduil blushing. “Lady Leuthil was her name, wasn’t it?”

 

“Let’s just hope she hasn’t given her heart to others…” Thranduil said with a sigh.

 

“I’m sure she hasn’t…” Elrond said casually. “An elleth does not simply deny a prince…not to mention a king”

 

“Oh she’s not just any elleth…!” Thranduil chuckled, smiling at the thought of the girl he dreamed of seeing again. “She wouldn’t fall for wealth or fame…believe me, she wasn’t easy to catch.”

Elrond chuckled.

“Besides…” Thranduil continued. “If I’m so lucky and she would still want me, I still have a balrog to bring down, which happens to hate me more than Sauron himself…”

Elrond raised his eyebrows as he followed Thranduil’s gaze, only to find it locked on Lord Alheru who was trying so hard to bring the scattering soldiers to organized lines.

“Then you’re going to have rough few days…!” Elrond commented, chuckling at Thranduil’s misery.

 

 

The capital was in a chaos when the party arrived. All had come to greet the heroes of war. It was a delight to see families who ran to their men, and the lovers reunited. Though Thranduil felt heaviness in his heart when he saw many faces searching in what was left of his army with misplaced hope. Greenwood had paid a heavy price for this victory and Thranduil knew that many families would be mourning tonight, and many lovers were to remain alone forever.

 

 The new king had given his permission for the soldiers to leave the ranks of the army whenever they reached their homes, so by the time they arrived in front of the palace gates there were only the high lords left along with the lords and soldiers of Imladris.

 

They halted a distance from the main gate and dismounted. Thranduil didn’t have the heart to look at the palace porch. Long he had not seen his own family. During these years he had often feared forgetting their faces. In the empty nights of Mordor, he had tried so hard not to forget the things he was fighting for. His mother’s warm eyes, his sister’s cheerful laughter…and his one and only love, there was no need to try to remember her for the hope of seeing her again had been his salvation all these years.

 

Thranduil smiled when he saw Galion run to him, the butler that had pampered him all his life. He was speechless when he reached his new king; he just gazed at Thranduil with eyes full of tears and then dropped to his knees.

 

“Welcome my lord…welcome!” he sobbed.

 

Thranduil smiled and grabbed his shoulder to make him stand.

 

“Thank you Galion…” he said. “Our Noldor brothers will be staying with us a couple of days…will you make sure they are housed properly?”

 

“Yes my lord…” Galion said cheerfully as he ran for the duty.

 

For the first time then Thranduil lifted his head to see the castle’s porch as he approached his family who had come to greet him. His heart was bursting. How would he face his mother after his father’s death? What would she say…would she blame him for Oropher’s death?

 

A few steps further and the queen was standing before him. The black mourning dress and the black tulle she was wearing beneath her tiara manifested her tall slender form. She looked up at her son with eyes full of unspoken pain. And then she opened her arms and embraced Thranduil firmly.

“Oh mother…” he sighed, as he dug his face in her hair and pressed her more to himself. He took in the scent of home from her hair, and he believed then, that he had truly returned.

 

Harma finally broke their embrace after long seconds and turned to Elrond who was standing behind Thranduil.

 

“My lady…” Elrond said as he kissed her hand. “My condolences.”

 

“Thank you my lord…” Harma said with a faint smile. “Welcome to our humble home.”

 

Thranduil hesitated, but then he took out the king’s dagger and looked at his mother shamefully. Harma looked down at the dagger she had known for centuries and tears filled her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry mother…” Thranduil whispered. “There was nothing I could bring back with me…”

 

Despite her tears Harma smiled as she closed Thranduil’s fingers around the handle showing him who the next master of the fine craft is. Then she cupped his face tenderly and brought his face closer to kiss his temple.

 

“You are here now…” she said in a firm voice. “That’s all that matters my king.” Then she took his hand and kissed it.

 

The word seemed so far, so strange. But it seemed that hearing it from his mother made it sound more real. He smiled as he turned to another elleth in black. Aleth was crying and smiling at the same time.

 

“Oh Thranduil…” she nearly screamed and jumped up to circle her arms around her brother. They hugged each other for long moments. He just realized then how much he had missed this little sister of his. When they broke, Aleth leaned and kissed his hand just as the queen.

“Your return is a blessing from the Valar my king…”

 

It seemed that he had to get used to the change of attitude. Being treated as an extraordinary being was going to become an everyday ritual and there was nothing he could do to change it.

 

“Aleth, will you show lord Elrond and his companions to the guest chambers…” Thranduil said. “I’ve made them stand here for too long.”

 

“Of course” Aleth smiled and turned to Elrond. “This way please, my lords.”

 

When Elrond nodded at Thranduil and the lords of Imladris vanished through the gates, the king finally turned his attention to Miklovand who had been standing there in silence for a long time; he held his head down, not looking up at all. Thranduil went closer and stood in front of him. Long moments paced before Miklovand took Thranduil’s hand and kissed it.

 

 “Welcome home, my king…” he whispered, still avoiding his gaze.

 

“Thank you Miklovand…” Thranduil said as he tapped his shoulder in an uncharacteristic gentle manner.

 

Miklovand looked up at him with disbelief. Thranduil smiled warmly, not wanting Miklovand to find any sign of the past grievances. Then he turned away from him.

 

“My king your council would like to discuss a few matters with you before you retire…” Harma said. But Thranduil was not listening. He was searching the court members impatiently.

 

“Mother…” he called after a few seconds, his eyes still scanning the crowd. “Where is Leuthil?”

 

“She went home dear…to greet her father.” the queen said and when she saw Thranduil’s distressed eyes she continued. “I asked her to say but she wanted to give us some privacy as a family…”

 

“Send for her…” Thranduil ordered firmly almost harshly. “She _is_ my family.”

 

“Alright…” Harma said. “Join your council majesty and I will send for her…”

 

Thranduil nodded. He did not know how he was going to sit through a meeting. All his body hurt from tension. His muscles were cramped and he deeply needed to rest. He needed to drift into sleep, something he hadn’t been able to do peacefully since Oropher’s death. Leuthil’s absence had made all the joy of returning die inside him. He felt empty, abandoned. He knew well that he was over reacting but his fears were heightening. Fear of losing her. What would he do if she had chosen another?

 

 

He could hardly concentrate on the different matters his councilors wanted him to know of. He only noted there were some issues about the storages and trade agreements and other things of that category.

 

“…and therefore there is enough food stored for the winter my king.” one of the councilors finished. Before the other could start Thranduil stopped him with a raised hand.

 

“My lords…” he said. “These are the issues I can solve tomorrow. If there’s anything urgent you need to discuss with me, please pull it forth...or let me retire for I am drained.” He said frankly.

 

“There is the matter of your coronation majesty.” The queen who had recently arrived said immediately. “The council wishes our new king to be crowned as fast as possible.”

 

“What is the rush mother…?” Thranduil said. “The soldiers have just been reunited with their families, besides many are still mourning for their losses, we have all the time in the world for ceremonies and feasts, give the people some time.”

 

“My king…” The queen said firmly. “This throne has been kingless for a long time now…It’s already a miracle that it still hasn’t been rubbed from its rightful owner…”

 

Thranduil caught the strange looks the council members exchanged and specially the bitter gaze between Miklovand and his mother. He was sharp enough in nature to suspect that there has been some foul things going around here. And he was smart enough to understand his mother had a reason behind her claim.

 

“Very well mother…” he said calmly. “When do you wish for the ceremony to take place?”

 

“In two days, majesty.”

 

“As you wish, my lady.” Thranduil said and rose from his seat. Everybody else stood in his respect. He lowered his head in the respect of the council members who were nearly all centuries older than him then he almost flee from the room. 

 

 

 

 

When Leuthil reached the palace it was afternoon and the court was nearly settled after the arrival of the army. Few lords of Imladris were walking around and Leuthil caught the sight of Elrond.

 

“My lord…” she called as she ran to him.

 

The lord turned and smiled at the young impatient elleth running towards him who nearly stumbled from rush.

 

“I’m sorry my lord…” she panted. “Do you happen to know where Thran…where his majesty is?”

 

“Yes my lady…” Elrond said still smiling from the girl’s excitement. “I just saw him round the corner.”

 

Leuthil smiled and ran again. Her heart was pounding like a drum and hot blood rushed in her veins with force. And then she saw him. He was standing there in the corridor with all his glory, talking to Galdor. She couldn’t wait for his conversation to finish.

 

“Thranduil…” she called.

 

 

He thought he had imagined her voice when she called him. He turned towards her as if in a dream. She was there…she was truly standing there, with a blue dress matching her eyes. Her long dark hair hung in fine waves to her narrow waist. He didn’t notice when Galdor bowed and left them. All he could see was her. He feared that she would vanish in the air if he took his eyes of her.

 

Thranduil went a few steps closer. His knees shook and his heart was breaking through his chest. So much he had planned to tell her and now he was wordless.

 

 He drank the sight of her, trying to understand if she was still his. If she still wanted him after what he had become. He was not the healthy, joyful prince anymore…his body was far away from the perfection it had once been. His mind was also sick, as was his heart.

 

“Thranduil…” she sighed as tears filled her eyes. “You’ve been missed…much missed.”

 

“Leuthil…” he finally managed to suppress the lump in his throat. “Have…Have you given your heart to another…?”

 

 “Another?” she sobbed. Her tears ran down her face like the rivers of his realm. “You blinded me from the world the day you captivated my heart…”

 

Thranduil knew he was shaking, but the flood of emotions was too severe for him to handle.

“Then why were you not here when I came…?” he complained childishly.

 

Leuthil gazed at him for a few seconds before answering. “I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position…” she said. “In case you didn’t want me anymore…”

 

Thranduil went a few steps closer, standing inches from her.

“You were forever mine the moment I took you.” He said firmly, his wild eyes glittering.

 

Her heart swelled from his possessive tone. It was indeed him. Different he had become but it was still him. The voracious, selfish, rude prince she had fallen for. She couldn’t hold the distance much longer so she circled her arms around him and pulled his face closer to hers. He wasn’t at all surprised by her attempt as he had planned on doing the same. He lowered his head and claimed her lips hungrily.

 

Her taste was as sweet as the first time he had kissed her in her house. She tasted like the nectar of the spring flowers, like the honey the bee keepers sold in the spring. She tasted like life.

He groaned in disappointment when Leuhtil slowly pulled away.

 

“Come my dear…” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “You look terrible…Let me take care of you”

 

“I…I don’t want to go to the royal chambers…” Thranduil protested like a child scared of a dark room. “I want my own room.”

 

“I knew you would want that…” she said with an understanding smile. “I told Liadan to tidy your chamber.”

 

Thranduil nodded, relieved from one of his nightmares for now; to sleep in his father’s room. He let Leuthil guide him through the corridors of his home and he followed her absentmindedly. He knew he was in good hands.

 


	19. Chapter 19

They ignored the meaningful smiles of the staff while they found their way to Thranduil’s private chambers, hand in hand.

 

Leuthil had always thought the dim corridors that led to his chamber were extremely complex, yet she found herself able to find her way blindly now as she had taken refuge to his chamber many times in the past few years; seeking solitude to cherish a long gone love . She had not felt this wound up for a long time. The feeling of his hand in hers was enough for all eternity and she just reveled on the thought that her beloved was no longer in war and his life was no longer in danger; at least for now.

 

She heard Thranduil let out a deep sigh when they entered his chamber. Was it any surprise? To feel overwhelmed by returning to the most familiar place in your life that had become so cruelly unfamiliar through years of war, death and loss.    

 

“Take off your clothes…” she said. “I’ll make the bath ready.”

 

He nodded and she left him vanishing behind the door of the bathing chamber. Thranduil suddenly felt so abandoned. He couldn’t tolerate another second of distance. The feel of the familiar room made him forget all about the task he was told to do. 

 

It was afternoon and the faint sun had party lit the room. The objects on his desk were exactly on the same spot he had left them. He took a few lazy steps towards it and touched the wooden surface. Yes, it was real. The feel of the fine paper, the softness of the fine feather he used to write with…and the wooden horse of his childhood.

 

He picked it up carefully; the toy that had reminded him of his father’s love all his life. The valueless object that had been always a hope, that somewhere deep in his iron heart, Oropher cherished him. The father that was now rotting in the wastelands of Mordor and never again would he be able to show his son how much he truly loved him.

 

“Why are you still in those clothes?”

 

Leuthil’s had come out of the bathing chamber and found him daydreaming; still in those dirty traveling suits. When she elicited an annoyed look he dropped his head in an uncharacteristic apologetic manner. She went closer and stood in front of him. He had become so frail, so fragile; very unlike the lion he had been when he had set out for war.

 

Holding out her hand she caressed his cheek with one hand. He closed his eyes and leaned his face to her touch. Such simple gentleness, she thought, had been a rare thing in the battle field.  He then took her hand in his and kissed her palm several times before letting go.

 

“Come…” she whispered as she pulled him with her. She knew how Thranduil was over sensitive on his cleanness and appearance. Never in those days would he be seen without regal clothing. Never would he be seen unclean and untended. He had now become extremely untidy, and extremely dirty. She wanted to clean him. She wanted to wash away the sorrow away from his soul as she would wash away the dirt from his perfect skin. Though she knew this was never truly possible.  

 

She led him to the bathing chamber and he followed obediently. The tub was filled with seductive hot water that called to him and the scent of the perfect soups coming from it had filled the small place. She stood before him. By now she had fully understood what he wanted from her. He wanted her to take care of him completely. He wanted to stop thinking and caring for everything, even his own being, if only for a few hours and she would gladly comply.

 

She slowly started striping him from his clothes as he watched her attentively. She folded his traveling robe aside and unlaced the leather suite.

When she finally pushed his worn out tunic of his shoulders he sighed from finally being released from the burden. She on the other hand was discovering his magnificent body all over again. Her hands travelled over his upper body feeling his perfect torso, his strong chest and his delicate collarbone, the strong muscles beneath the milky skin.

 

Then she saw the scar on his side. A bruised torn flesh lay stretched from his back to his side and then up to just under his chest. Though slightly healed she could easily tell from the sight of it that it would never completely mend. A reminder of war, she thought, for him to never forget the pain.

 

Thranduil was looking at her, consuming each of her moves and she clearly caught a glimpse of doubt and even shame from this imperfection in his eyes. She needed to show him how much she loved him, even with this torn ugly skin. She would have loved him all the same if he had returned with no hands, with no legs or with no eyes. She would have loved him forever even if he would’ve never returned.

 

She felt the length of the scar with her fingers and then she leaned to kiss all the extent of it, licking it on the swollen parts. Her acts elicited a deep sigh from Thranduil as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his fingers tangling in her hair playfully.

 

She finally unlaced his breeches and pulled his leggings down and then leaned to pull off his boots. Then she took off her own gown, leaving just the short silken shift, knowing she would definitely get wet giving him a bath. 

 

Thranduil moaned from the sensation of the hot water as he sank in the deep tub. She let him get used to the temperature before she started to tenderly scrub down his body. He just sat there inactively; his head leaned on the cool wall, staring at a point on the wall in front of him that Leuthil could swear did not exist.

 

When she seized her tending to take another nice smelling substance to wash his hair, he reached out to his clothes and picked out a piece of paper from inside them. Leuthil watched attentively as he folded the paper several times and made a small paper boat. Then he floated it on the water and watched as the simple toy moved on the surface.

 

Leuthil didn’t ask anything. She knew everything she had to know. He was appreciating the small things in life he had missed. But still it startled her all the same to see him cherish such small things. He had become so different from the young spoiled prince she remembered who never truly appreciated the wealth he had or the attention he received. He had lost his youth in those wastelands and _this_ was a quiet tribute to his loss.

 

 When she washed his hair and poured buckets of clean water on his head he closed his eyes and a faint smiled claimed his lips. He looked up at her from where his head was between her open thighs as she sat on the edge of the tub, her legs in the water to her knees.

 

“Is this not a dream…?” he asked.

 

“No…” she smiled and leaned down to claim his lips. He did not reflex at first but let her kiss and play with his passive lips. But when she so shamelessly intruded his slack mouth he moaned and tangled his tongue with hers. 

 

They kissed for a long time, tasting each other after so many years. The bitterness of what fate had befallen them slowly vanishing from their minds as they treasured each other in the most ancient demonstration of love.

 

“The water is getting cold…” she said after they broke. “We’ve lingered here too long…”

 

She covered him in a big towel and followed him as he went to his bed chamber. She dried his hair as he sat on the bed.

 

“Will you have me now…?” she asked openly.

 

He took his time to answer. “I’m…I need to sleep.” He whispered. “I’m exhausted.” He dropped his head almost shamefully.

 

“It’s alright…” she smiled. She knew he would need rest and persuasion to become his old self again. She would wait. “Rest now…we have all the time in the world.”

 

He nodded and kissed her hands that had soothed him so kindly. “You’re too good for me…” he whispered.

 

She chuckled and gently pushed him back on the bed and covered him with the blankets. When she made sure he was comfortable she kissed him lightly again and turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist rapidly.

She turned to look at him with surprise.

 

“Stay…” he nearly begged.

 

She smiled again, her heart lifting from his invitation. She joined him on the bed as she slipped under the blanket behind him. She hugged him from behind and slowly hummed an old melody for him. One of the songs they had learned in their music courses long ago; where he had first came into her life.

 

She watched his magnificent eyes slowly lose focus and he gradually gave in to his heavy eyelids. ‘He is beautiful indeed’ she thought as she dug her face in his damp hair, tightening her grip on his waist to make sure he would never leave her again.

***

 

“Ada…no …adaaa”

 

Leuthil’s eyes jerked open and she sat on the bed swiftly. Thranduil was twisting in his sleep, murmuring words which clearly showed he was having a horrible nightmare. His body was soaked with sweat and spasms shook his muscles badly.

 

“No…ada…I’m sorry…”

 

Leuhtil grabbed his shoulder and shook him rapidly. “Thranduil…”

He did not wake.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” he cried in his sleep. “Forgive me…”

 

“THRANDUIL”

He woke up from his nightmare with a deep gasp as his body jerked up into a sitting position, only to fall into Leuthil’s open arms. She embraced him tightly. Feeling his rapid heartbeat against her chest, she waited for his hard breathing to stabilize. But it only turned into deep sobs as he dug his face in her hair and wept freely, his tears falling on her bare shoulders.

She couldn’t recall seeing him cry before. He was always strong and virile, showing no emotions. But this fragile side of him that she truly did not know what to do with had been revealed as a result of the cursed war.

 

“I left him there…” he sobbed like a child, still holding on to her embrace. “He will never forgive me…”

 

An iron hand pressed Leuthil’s heart. She pressed him more to her and caressed his soft hair as she kissed his neck several times. How could she fight his pain away? How could she reach inside him and take out his sorrow? What could she say to take away his misplaced guilt…?

 

She merely held him like that for long minuets, listening to the sorrowful sound of his quiet sobs, holding him as his shoulders shook rapidly from grief and guilt. To her relief he slowly calmed and his breathing became normal. Yet he did not break her embrace for a long time.

 

When he finally pulled away from her, he wiped his tears away in a failed attempt to hide them. Leuthil took his hands in hers and stopped him from doing so.

 

“Don’t hide your emotions…” she whispered. “Not tonight…not from me.”

 

He looked up at her; his fantastic aquamarine eyes were swollen and red. Filled with sorrow and unspoken pain…yet there was also fire in them, a fire that she had not seen in him since his return. She was amazed at the flood of feelings in his eyes that changed within each second.

 

 He scanned her; his gaze dropping from her eyes to her lips, then to her bare shoulders and her breasts which were not decently covered by the thin fabric of her shift.

 

With a swift move that startled her, he pulled her to him. She fell on his lap, her body safely wrapped in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. He leaned his face down to hers and kissed her voraciously, sucking, licking, biting her lips. His taste was familiar, making her believe that he had miraculously returned to her and that this was not a dream. A burning heat rose inside her chest when his tongue tangled with hers and his hand found its way to her breast, squeezing it wildly.

 

She moaned from the welcome pain and made him kiss her even more hungrily. She could feel his arousal under the sheets, building up his desire for her. She broke the kiss and ignored his annoyed groan which was soon replaced with a gasp when she pulled the sheets away and grabbed his shaft in her hand.

 

She was not as dumb in the field of romance as everyone thought her to be. She had been well acquainted with few _ladies of the court during_ her time there, giving her enough time to learn a few tricks of the courtesans… and she knew Thranduil’s burning nature… She would please him in any way she could …she would rather be Thranduil’s whore than anyone else’s wife.

 

She pushed Thranduil back playfully and he complied, curious to see what she had in store for her. ‘ _Beautiful’_ he was to her in this state of surrender. She pulled her hair back and sat between his parted legs.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked with disbelief.

She merely smiled as she tenderly pushed his shaft up licking his soft sacks playfully.

 

“Oh Leuthil…” he just managed to sigh as he struggled to keep his head up to watch her as she so shamefully cherished him.

 

She teased him enough to elicit a groan from him before taking him fully in her mouth slowly, torturously.

 

“Valar…” he moaned as he collapsed back on the bed and writhed slightly to her ministrations. She sucked him hard and his moans of pleasure filled the room. The greatest reward she thought, to see him like this, to make him abandon all his will; amazing how pleasuring him brought her as much satisfaction.

 

She stopped before taking him on edge, making him even more aggressive. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up rapidly, rolling on top of her with force. She was a fool if she had thought she could master him for just a second.

 

“You’ve become more skillful than last I left you…” he said hoarsely.

 

“You were the one insisting for me to stay in the palace…” she teased. “The court is full of bad influence.”

 

“Truly…” he agreed.

 

She gasped when he violently tore her silken shift apart; throwing the poor fabric aside like it had insulted him. He drank the sight of her naked form, for a long time before he began kissing and nipping her in every place he could reach. He licked her ear, nipped her neck, fondled her breasts…She moaned from the overwhelming sensations he brought her with each single touch. She writhed under him from how she could not tolerate the weaves of pleasure he sent inside her.

 

He pushed her legs apart and without hesitation he started penetrating her with his intrusive tongue. She arched her back and nearly cried from lust, grabbing his soft hair for dear life. His speed was hard for her to keep up with yet it was pleasurable all the same if not more.

 

“Thranduil…please.” She begged when he started invading her with two fingers as he licked her on her spot. He merely groaned, sending soft vibrations in her body that made her cry out his name.

 

He stopped before taking her on edge, just as she had done to him so cruelly. This is Thranduil she though, always trying to get even.

 

She moaned as he pulled herself up on her, letting her slightly bear his weight as he settled himself between her parted thighs. He claimed her lips again in a long lingering kiss, his arousal rubbing against her heat.

 

“I need you closer…” she begged. “Until I don’t know where I end and where you begin”

 

He kissed her softly again as his hand travelled over her body, feeling her soft skin that was like the petal’s of the wild roses, which grew beside the river. So different she was from the cruelty of war, so better she was from the thought of fallen friend…so beautiful, so soft, so lovely.

 

He locked his penetrating gaze with hers.

“Say that you want me…” he ordered. “I need to hear it…”

 

“I want you…” she said. “I want only to think of you.”

 

He pierced her flesh with his thick member as he claimed her lips again, silencing her as if he could not bear her words. She moaned from the feeling she had waited for a long time; to be stretched to her extent by his unmerciful love.

 The greatness of their love making only begun when he put up a slow rhythm in and out of her, making her scream his name with each thrust. Gradually he quickened though. He was now on that state of fire that she loved, like a dragon threatening to huff out his flaming breath…she on the other hand, wanted to be burned.

 

“Come with me…” he whispered in her ear as she writhed under him. “I want you to come with me…”

 

This was an order from a king and she had no choice but to obey, which she did gladly. He groaned loudly as she felt his warmth spread inside her just when she tightened around his shaft as climax hit her. There was no sweeter reward, she thought, than feeling his warm spent seed inside her core, and seeing the stars, the moon, the sun behind her closed eyelids.

 

He collapsed on her, his face dug in her neck. She knew she could have never tolerated his weight before, but he had grown thin and weak, so light for a male of his built. She would have to deal with that. She caressed his back tenderly until his rapid breathing settled and slowly he lifted himself from her.

 

“I love you…” he whispered as he kissed her lightly and rolled off her to collapse on his back.

 

She crawled to his side and put her head on his firm chest, the sound of his beating heart was the deepest affirmation that this was not a dream.

 

“I love you too…” she whispered.

 

He tangled his fingers in her dark hair and closed his eyes. Few moments passed in silence before Thranduil spoke in a low tone again.

“Will you be my queen…?” he asked.

 

“I’ll be anything you want me to be…” she whispered. “As long as you don’t leave me again.”

 

He smiled, his eyes still closed. Then his breathing gradually deepened and he drifted into a dreamless sleep this time.

 


	20. Chapter 20

When Leuthil opened the door to her house the next morning she found her father well awake.

 

“Ada…” she said as she smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “I went to the town to get your favorite jam for breakfast…”

 

Alheru smiled and sat beside the table while Leuthil lay out the breakfast. He watched her for a long time. His little daughter had grown into a beautiful maiden. Her dark hair hung in fine curls to her waist and her blue eyes glittered just like her departed mother. He secretly regretted the many years he had missed Leuthil’s presence. Something inside her though was different. There was a joy in her eyes that he knew it had nothing to do with the happiness for her father’s return. This was the joy of love lightening Leuthil’s eyes and that was the thing Alheru had always feared.

 

“You came late last night…” he said casually, yet judging her actions intensively.

 

Leuthil tensed but she kept her face.

“Yes I went to the palace to get my things…” she said with a warm smile. “I didn’t realize you were awake then. I would’ve returned sooner if I had.”

 

Alheru nodded, but then he frowned. “Were you with Thranduil?” he asked directly.

 

Her insides fell to the floor. She avoided her father’s gaze and took her time to find a suitable answer, acting as if she was very busy with a piece of bread.

 

“I also paid him a visit…” she finally murmured.

 

Alheru shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You know I do not approve of him…” he groaned. “…And yet you still keep seeing him?”

 

Leuthil was frustrated.  She deeply understood Alheru’s worries, but how could she explain. She truly couldn’t explain a love that she herself didn’t know how it happened. Her insides got upside down by the thought of her father knowing about the intimacy of her affair.

 

“He loves me…” she said softly, knowing how unconvincing her words were.

 

“Do you really think that he hasn’t told that to all the others he has taken to his crowded bed…?” Alheru nearly yelled.

 

The lord’s anger was visible and understandable and made Leuthil wonder how much truly did her father know for she knew Alheru was a smart ellon and he had probably guessed everything.

 

“Father, please…” Leuthil said trying to keep calm. “A year he had been with me before the war, and he didn’t even look at anyone else…When he came back, I was the only girl he wanted to see…”

 

“Do you truly believe him Leuthil?” Alheru said with disbelief.

 

“Yes father, I believe him…” she said firmly.

 

“Valar…” Alheru growled as he rose from his seat to pace back and forth across the room.

“I never thought I would be forced to argue with you for someone like him…I thought you were wiser than this!”

 

Then he stood in front of her and continued. “You are not more powerful than the late king Leuthil, and he spent an eternity trying to fit Thranduil into the norms and failed...What makes you think you can be different.”

 

“Ada, I’m not planning to change him or fit him into anything… I know he is not pleasing, and I know he’s far away from perfect…” Leuthil said desperately. “But this is the boy I fell in love with, a little messy, a little ruined, a beautiful disaster…” she smiled from the thought of him. “He is _my_ disaster…”

 

Alheru shook his head as if this was a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

“I was happy that you were an intelligent elleth…” he said regretfully. “I never thought you would fall for royalties…”

 

“Father I didn’t fall for money or fame, I fell for _him_ …” she said gravely, her eyes filling with tears from the accusation. “Please…do not insult me like this…you _know_ me.”

 

“I truly don’t understand how you could fall in love with an impudent, rude, and unruly prince!?”

 

Leuthil looked down and blushed. Her father had always taught her not to be seduced by fame or wealth, and she truly understood how betrayed his father should be. There was no way she could explain this.

 

“There is a dog hidden behind his eyes…” she said with a lump in her throat. “And if it sees you, it catches you…”

 

Alheru did not say anything for a long time, he merely gazed at her. He knew the meaning of _love_ , as he knew its power. He had been in love deeply with his wife and he had not experienced happier times. But he feared for his daughter. He had been Oropher’s close friend and advisor for a very long time. He had watched Thranduil grow and he knew the rebel well. He was truly sure Thranduil would never marry her daughter; he would never fit into the norms, especially now that there was no father to settle him down. He needed to protect her from him. But how could he do this when she was so deeply in love?

 

He went closer and towered above her.

“What if I disapprove…?” he threatened. “What if I ask you not to see him again…?”

 

“Ada please…don’t make me choose.” She nearly begged.

 

“I asked you a question iell-nin…” Alheru said firmly. “Answer me…”

 

Leuthil took her time to answer. Then she straitened her back and looked at his father evenly although she could not stop her voice from shaking.

 

“I love you father…and you know it. And I pray that I should never have to disobey you. But if it comes down to choosing between my love and your prejudice, I know what my choice will be.” She said firmly. “I will always choose Thranduil…”

 

 A deadly silence fell upon them. Alheru paced back to his seat and collapsed down. Leuthil couldn’t read anything from his face. She really didn’t want to upset him the first day he had returned but the conversation went out of hand so fast.

 

“Ada…I should go back to the palace…” she said softly. “I promised her majesty to help with the coronation ceremony.”

 

Alheru merely nodded. Leuthil gazed at him a few more seconds, trying to read anything from his iron face but failed. She finally gave up as she picked up her cloak and went out of the house with a heavy heart.

 

Long hours passed. Alheru merely sat there and thought. His mind flashed back to long passed centuries when his beautiful wife was yet with him. He had been young and poor when he had fallen in love with her. And despite her family’s disapproval she had married him. Of course he had worked hard to make a happy life for her; he had truly devoted himself to her. He had joined the army and made her proud with his great achievements and he had built a comfortable life for her.

 

He knew how his daughter was feeling. He had always wanted Leuthil to fall in love and start a good life. But he never wanted her to choose someone like Oropher’s son. He felt as if fate was teasing him.

 

It was well passed noon when Alheru finally stood and started taking away the untouched breakfast. He was in the small kitchen when a knock on the door startled him.

 

He frowned; Leuthil couldn’t be back so soon. He went to the door and opened it. A cloaked man was standing outside the door, facing away from him. When he heard the door open he turned around.

 

Alheru hardly suppressed his surprise from seeing Thranduil. Then king was alone and he had tied his massive stallion to a tree.

 

“Majesty…” Alheru said with surprise. “Is there something wrong?”

 

“No my lord…everything is fine.” Thranduil said with a sweet smile. “I was just wondering if we could talk…just a few minutes.”

 

“Of course…” Alheru said. “Please, do come in.”

 

He stepped out of the way for Thranduil to enter. The tall king lowered his head and entered the familiar house.

 

“Please make yourself at home, my king…” Alheru said pointing at an armchair.

 

Thranduil sat comfortably, with a confidence of a true king, leaning back on the seat.

 

“I do not have wine to offer…” Alheru said. “Would you like some tea, majesty?”

 

“Tea is great…” Thranduil said still smiling.

 

A few minutes later Alheru sat in front of him and two cups of warm tea rested on the small table.

“My lord, can you do me a favor…?” Thranduil said innocently.

 

“Of course…” Alheru said softly.

 

“I truly miss my given name…” Thranduil said with a bitter chuckle. “Will you call me with my own name, like you used to…?”

 

Alheru smiled warmly as long years of memories with the young king flashed before his eyes.  He remembered how he had yelled at him in the practice sessions. How many times had he pushed the royal novice to the ground to make a great warrior out of him; a captain worthy of the woodland realm?

 

“Of course Thranduil…” he finally said in a fatherly tone. “Tell me, is everything alright with you?”

 

“It’s strange…” Thranduil said with a frown as he sipped from the tea. “I haven’t been crowned yet, but already everything is changed…everyone seems to be taking distance from me…even my own family…”

He sighed and smiled bitterly. “I feel like I’m filling shoes that are not mine.”

 

“Fate has given you no small burden…”Alheru said. “Those shoes fit you well, you just need to get used to them.”

 

Thranduil nodded and smiled. “I’m lucky I have you and my father’s advisors with me…” he said. “I hope you would never abandon me in this way…”

 

“Of course we won’t.” Alheru assured. “Though I have a feeling you came here to say more important things…”

 

Thranduil shifted uncomfortably of how rapidly Alheru had dragged him to the main point. Alheru noted how Thranduil’s regal confidence shattered in a second and he suddenly became the same shy child he remembered as he blushed and gazed down. The lord amazingly realized then that how young this king was…what a shame that he had to pull such a burden much before his time…

 

“My father was planning to talk to you about this after the war but fate didn’t allow him…” Thranduil said, blushing. “So I have to talk to you myself now.”

 

Alheru waited for him to struggle with his words. The king finally managed his stammered sentences.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about your lady daughter…” he finally got out fast, feeling if he would say his sentence rapidly it would be less awkward.

 

Alheru’s pulse raced though he did not show anything. “What about her…?” he said coldly.

 

His iciness made Thranduil squirm more with discomfort. He would’ve gladly fought a dragon alone than face Alheru like this.

 

“I wanted to ask for your permission… and blessing for us to be married…” he finally got out.

 

Alheru was silent for a few moments, looking at the carpet and making Thranduil very uncomfortable.

When he finally lifted his head Thranduil was nearly passing out from anxiety. He had found fighting an army of thousands easier than proposing for the lord’s daughter.

 

“Why do you want my daughter?” Alheru finally said.

 

“I love her…” Thranduil said simply. “I cannot live without her…”

 

Alheru sighed. “Let me be frank Thranduil…” he said. “I have known you for long years. You lead a profligate, unruly life, and I always thought that the late king’s regal life had spoiled you…I have watched you develop feelings for Leuthil with much fear and concern. Leuthil is a perfect elleth, she’s not royalty like you but I have raised her with much attention and obsession…I must say, I fear to hand my daughter to you…”

 

“Lady Leuthil is too good for me, I know…but I will cherish her like no one in Arda will.” Thranduil said calmly. “I’ve lost a lot in the past few years my lord. Enough to learn to value the things I have for they may slip from my hands like the silver fish in the river…”

 

Alheru knew what he was talking about and it broke his heart to see the sorrow that shadowed the king’s eyes at the very moment. Thranduil though continued with a steady and calm voice.

 

“I’ve changed my lord…” he said firmly. “I left many things behind in those wastelands…including my youth, and my old life which I buried with my own hands, along with my father.”

 

Silence fell upon them. Both were in deep thought. Thranduil felt very uncomfortable under Alheru’s gaze and the heavy silence but he had promised himself not to go out of that house without an answer. He had planned for everything. If Alheru would disagree with their marriage he would run away with Leuthil, leaving everything behind. He would start a life with her far away from the palace and the horrid kingly duties that awaited him. So the fate of the woodland realm now lay in the hands of the lord.

 

“I do not approve of this marriage…” Alheru said bluntly. “But I know how much my daughter loves you. And I fear I will lose her if I try to stop her.”

 

The lord then rose from his seat as did Thranduil. He pierced the young one with his black eyes.

“You have my permission and blessing” he said.

 

Thranduil hardly suppressed a gasp when Alheru grabbed his collar firmly.

 “But know that if you hurt my daughter, I _will_ kill you!” he said seriously not caring that it was the king of the woodland realm he was talking to.

 

Thranduil stared at him with disbelief, tears of joy filling his eyes as Alheru released him. He leaned and kissed Alheru’s hand, which startled the lord.

 

“She will be cherished beyond any treasure I have…” Thranduil said with a shaky voice. “I promise…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome as always, and they also keep me writing ;-)


	21. Chapter 21

To Thranduil’s request it was decided that the coronation ceremony would be a small one. It was also decided that his wedding would take place just as the coronation would end.

 

Everyone was in a rush to get things done as fast as possible. Elrond gladly accepted to stay for the ceremony which resulted in a wide grin on Thranduil’s lips and it gave the lord of Imladris a chance for better relations with the woodland realm.

 

Aleth had taken the responsibility of sewing Leuthil’s wedding dress and she was all busy with working things out with a small team of the court ladies. Silly rumor’s and gossips were heard all over the court in various subjects extending from the new queen’s wedding dress to the list of the lords and ladies who would remain in the king’s council or not.

 

Galdor was grumpy these days as he could hardly still anytime from the busy princess but he was also very tight on his schedule as he was supposed to do the groom’s job, and the groom was not just any ellon. He was the king now.

 

The only person that seemed not very occupied with wedding and coronation matters was Thranduil himself. From the first day after his return he had sat behind his desk in his old chamber, trying to figure out what to do with the loads of issues going around the realm that was now his. Papers were massed on his small desk like a high mountain; trade suggestions, reports from boarders, petitions, complains of the citizens and the worst of all was the reports on how the losses from war and the departure of his people to Valinor had effected the population. He found himself surrounded with advisors and councilors, each with a different opinion.

 

The night before his coronation ceremony he was alone in his study, nearly bursting to tears from the mass of work he had to deal with. Most of them were about issues he knew nothing of. He realized that his desk was getting small for the loads of paper as parchments slipped from the edge of it from time to time.

 

There was a knock on the door and after his call of ‘enter’, Leuthil came inside. He smiled at the sight of her. She was beautiful as always but her eyes showed how tiered she was from the day’s activities.

 

“Good evening…” she said sweetly as she came to him.

“Good evening sugar…” he said as she leaned to steal a kiss from him.

 

“I’m leaving for home…” she said. And when she saw Thranduil aiming to argue she raised her hand. “Don’t worry, Galdor is sending a whole army with me…”

 

“Can’t you just stay here…?” Thranduil nagged.

 

She chuckled at his childish tone. “It’s my last night in my house with my father…” she said. “I won’t take that away from him…”

 

Thranduil nodded but then he frowned. “I still fear he might change his mind in the last minute!”

 

“He wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t fear me leaving him…” Leuthil chuckled again. Then she became serious. “You should rest Thranduil…tomorrow’s a hectic day...and you look terrible.”

 

“I will…” he said before she kissed him again.

 

“Good night dear…” she said as she went to the door. “I promise this is our last night apart.”

 

Thranduil smiled at that.

 

 

 

He went to bed soon as he found himself reading each line of the reports ten times and not understanding a word.

 

Despite his exhaustion he couldn’t sleep. He knew he would have to move to the royal chambers from tomorrow night. The queen had so thoughtfully changed the decoration completely but Thranduil still felt bad from moving there. The horrible feeling of filling someone else’s shoes wouldn’t leave him and beside that, new thoughts were flooding inside his mind.

 

Would Oropherhave truly approved of him to be king? What kind of a ruler would he become? Will his subjects obey him? Would he be able to lead them to a better fate?

 

He finally gave up on sleeping sometime in the night. Rising from his bed he covered himself in a robe and went out of his chambers.

 

The corridors leading to his father’s study were dim and empty in that time of the night. Unlike the long years he remembered there were no guards at the door. Of course, he thought, there was no inhabitant in the room to be guarded.

 

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The familiar smell of old parchment reached his nostrils along with the memories he had from that special room. He struggled to find some candles to light the chamber. And when he was done he looked around the room.

 

Everything was in the place where Oropher had last left them. The books were neatly ordered in the shelves, the desk and chair looked as if they were waiting for the king to sit on them once again. Clearly Oropher had thought that he would return to his office soon.

 

He circled the desk, finding his father’s quill and ink. He dared not touch the fine feather as if it would sting him for trespassing the borders of the true king. 

 

He finally sat down on the chair behind the desk which made a cracking sound. He needed to use his father’s study from tomorrow. He couldn’t just see the councilors in his bedchamber.

 

After taking a deep breath he took out a box from a corner and started sorting out the items on the desk and the drawers, putting the ones he wouldn’t use inside the box. His mother would know what to do with them.

 

He tried not to feel nostalgic or oversensitive on each object he was putting away until he reached the last drawer, which was locked. Curiosity rose inside him. He looked around for a key but when he didn’t find one he sat on the floor and put his feet on the leg of the desk and he pulled the drawer forcefully.

 

With a loud sound the lock broke and the drawer opened, revealing just a wooden box inside. Thranduil inhaled deeply before taking it out and putting it on his lap as he still sat on the ground, legs crossed.

 

He opened the box with care. There were a few things inside it, mostly pieces of paper. It took Thranduil a few seconds to realize what they were. But when he did his eyes widened.

 

The first thing he recognized was a piece of paper which happened to be perhaps Thranduil’s first drawing, merely a bunch of shapeless lines that dated back to centuries ago when he was just a baby.

 

When he turned the paper he found his father’s handwriting; _Thranduil, six years old._

The next thing that caught his attention was also a piece of paper. He recognized his own horrible handwriting as an elfling; _to ada with love._

 

He remembered the night well, when he had sneaked in his father’s study and had struggled to put the note on his desk as he was much shorter than it. Again he found his father’s handwriting on the back indicating the date on which he had found it.

 

He then found a dried daffodil in the box, which he had given to Oropher again when he was an elfling. He felt a rock grow in his throat as he went through the objects inside the box, which all were somehow related to him. Unworthy things that he hadn’t even cared to keep them as a memory but apparently it had mattered enough for Oropher to value them like this.

 

 

A hand patted his shoulder and he was taken out of his hysteric search through the late king’s belongings.

 

He looked up from the box with tearful eyes, only to find his mother there.

 

“Naneth…” he sobbed like an elfling. “He’s kept them all…” he said showing the box to Harma with hands that were shaking from uncontrollable anxiety. “Everything…all of it”

 

“Of course he did…” Harma said, leaning gently to sit next to her son. “He loved you so much…”

 

“But he never told me…” Thranduil moaned. “I never knew…”

 

“Shshsh…” Harma whispered and embraced her trembling son. For long centuries she hadn’t seen Thranduil weep. She had clearly underestimated the effect Oropher’s death had had on her son.

 

After long minutes Thranduil calmed and wiped his tears shamefully.

 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I’m a little on edge these days…”

 

“It’s alright dear…” Harma said with a warm smile as she helped her son gather the things in the box again. “It’s only natural to feel this way…”

 

Thranduil did not answer and merely kept his attention on gathering the items. The queen mother gazed at him for some minutes before speaking again.

 

“You’re restless…” she said matter-of-factly.

 

“I’m merely anxious about tomorrow, that’s all…” Thranduil lied. The fact was that he was anxious about all of it. He was wetting his pants from the thought of being legally the _king._

 

“It’ll pass…” Harma said with a serious expression. “Thranduil, there is something I need to tell you…”

 

Thranduil looked up at her, alert by her tone. “What is it mother?”

 

The queen took a deep breath.

 “I’ve decided to sail to Valinor…” she said rapidly, as if saying it fast will hurt her son less.

 

For a few seconds Thranduil just stared at her, not believing what he had just heard. The effect of her simple words seemed to burn him from inside, turning his already weary heart into ash.

 

“Mother…” he stammered. “Don’t do this to me…”  But he was silenced by her raised hand.

 

“This had been on my mind for a long time now, since I received the news of your father’s death.” Harma said. “The only reason I remained here was to see you back home safe…now there’s no point in delaying.”

 

“So you’re leaving me too…” Thranduil crocked. “Just like ada…”

 

The betrayal in his voice broke her heart but she had to do what she thought was right. She kept silent for a few seconds and she looked away, not being able to face her son’s disappointed look.

 

“Don’t leave me all alone…” Thranduil begged in an attempt he knew was in vein.

 

“Whether I stay or not, you are alone.” Harma said firmly. “To be the _king_ , is to be alone.”

 

“It seems that you’ve decided on everything…” Thranduil whispered. “And anything I say or do won’t change it…”

 

Harma nodded. “My time here is ending…” she sighed. “I need to go…”

 

“Then I can only make sure you sail safe…” Thranduil said with a trembling voice. “And then I can just hold on to a hope that I might see you again in Valinor…”

 

Harma smiled. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again ion-nin…” she said as she kissed the top of his head. “I’ll leave after you’re coronation.”

 

With that the queen stood. Thranduil suddenly realized how exhausted she was. The years of hardship were clearly showing on her face and even her movements. He wanted to remember her as she always was; proud, strong, and breathtakingly beautiful. This broken lady with hollow eyes and dropped shoulders was merely a shadow of his mother. He had to let her go…

 

She slowly went to the door but before leaving she turned again.

“And Thranduil…” she said. “Take care of Aleth, you’re all she has left…”

 

“I will mother…” he said.

 


	22. chapter 22

His back ached from the extremely uncomfortable position, and his knee felt numb on the cold surface as he repeated his oath.

 

“I; Thranduil Oropherion, solemnly swear that I will be forever loyal to my land and my people. I swear that all my efforts and decisions would be to bring my subjects prosper and joy. I swear to keep our beloved land safe from harm and to serve her people until death takes me, or until the end of all things.”

 

Then he felt the weight of the crown that Holgailion placed on his head gently. The edges of the wooden crown slightly irritated his cheeks.

 

Thankful that that it was nearly over he rose from his painful position. His doubtful eyes met Holgailion’s certain ones. He nodded and gave Thranduil an encouraging smile as he cleared the way for him.

 

The throne that had once belonged to his father waited. Thranduil took a deep breath and climbed the few stairs; the stairs that he had stood on many times as the prince. He finally reached the massive wooden seat that looked incredibly uncomfortable. With all the regality he could find in himself he sat on the throne that was now his by right.

 

“Hail king Thranduil…” Holgailion’s voice echoed in the hall.

 

All the lords and the people in the hall bowed to their new king. Thranduil felt his heart stir in his chest as he felt the heavy burden of their trust lay upon his shoulders.

 

“Arise…” he said in a loud firm voice. “Arise, my people…”

 

It took a few seconds for them to rise to their feet as they gazed at their king, waiting for a speech that was expected from him.

 

“Arise…” he repeated again. “For from this day, you bow to _no-one_ ”

 

The cheers and applause made the king deaf and it was then mixed by cries of’ _long live the king’_. Little elflings sent flower petals in the air and everyone was happy that finally after all those years of suffering the throne of Greenwood was back to its rightful ruler.

 

After a few moments the hall was silenced again. Everyone was interested to know what ministers and advisors would be added to the court and who would be ordered leave.

 

Hazar, the lady that had accompanied Thranduil on many missions and now was assigned as one of his captains, held out a piece of parchment and started reading the announcement.

 

“By order of the king of Greenwood the Great, the members of the royal council would be;

Lord Holgailion kalinion; chief troop commander

 

Lord Daitrid Hasalion; Chief war strategist

 

Lord Alheru Ebruhanion; Chief trainer of the royal army

 

Lord Dolorod Namrunion; Lord Naurfir belionion; Lady Meriloth Erastiell; Lady Malons Pegahiell; chief councilors and advisors of the royal court

 

Lord Miklovand; Captain of the royal guard”

 

Everyone had always known Thranduil as the most rebellious son a father can have. He had always challenged the decisions of the late king in any way he knew possible. So it was a surprise then that he had not changed a single post or title and he had not dismissed any of his father’s advisors not even Miklovand who had been most detested by him.

 

One by one the councilors came forth and kissed the kings hand, and then they were given the royal stamp of their stature which they had surrendered to Thranduil after Oropher’s death.

 

When finally Miklovand knelt and kissed his hand without looking him in the eye, Hazar started reading again.

 

“His majesty has also decided on who to replace the ninth councilor of the royal court, Lord Numranin who has recently sailed to Valinor.”

 

A deadly silence fell upon the hall as no-one could guess who would be the new member of the group closest to the king.

 

“Lord Galdor Rohonavion… kneel before the king.”

 

All heads turned towards the ellon who had once been merely a playmate for the prince; a commoner from a crowded and poor family.

 

Galdor felt his insides fall apart. Thranduil had not discussed this with him. He hadn’t told him a word that he was planning on bringing him to the court. He had never even dreamed of this. He had always known himself as Thranduil’s closest sentry or his friend at the most.

 

It took him a few seconds to move. If it had not been for the encouraging pats on his shoulder and the people around him who pushed him forward perhaps he would’ve never moved from his place. This was definitely a dream, and a very strange one for that matter. He felt lightheaded. His knees felt week and he nearly collapsed in front of the king, eyes fixed on Thranduil’s perfect boots.

 

“Galdor son of Rohonavion, do you solemnly pledge on your nobility and honor, that you will ever be loyal to your king, and faithful to the land that has nurtured you?” Hazar’s firm voice echoed in the hall.

 

Galdor raised his head and looked into Thranduil’s eyes for the first time. Those daggers he had instead of pupils looked back at him with no emotions.

 

“I do…”

 

“Do you swear on your dignity that as the advisor and councilor to our king you would always give advice that you believe to be best for our beloved land?”

 

“I do…”

 

“And do you pledge that you would serve your king and the beloved land until death takes you or until the end of all things?”

 

“I do…”

 

A faint smile claimed Thranduil’s lips as he patted Galdor on the shoulder.

 

“You may rise, my lord…” He said gently as he placed a royal stamp in Galdors hand.

 

Galdor kissed the kings hand before standing, still not believing what had just happened, and following Hazar’s hand he stood in the line of the king’s advisors.

***

 

The wedding ceremony began right after the coronation and lasted hours after midnight. The entire realm was there. People had even come from far away villages bringing gifts for the new royal couple.

The people in the court had always had sympathetic feeling for Leuthil and they clearly supported their king’s choice of spouse by attending the huge feast.

 

When Leuthil appeared in the hall accompanied by Aleth and a few maids, Thranduil hardly suppressed a gasp and he made a huge effort to stop his jaw from dropping open.

 

His lady was in a dark crimson dress. The torso of the magnificent garment was embroidered with silver in the most detailed manner and the silken tail caressed the marble floor of the throne room. A golden crown with leaf shapes was placed on her dark hair and her face was hidden behind the silken crimson tulle extending from the crown. The way the dress showed the fine curve of her waist made his blood boil in his veins.

 

Thranduil couldn’t take his eyes of her when they had taken their oath to be each other’s for the rest of their days. And when he was allowed to pull the fabric from her face he could not stop his hands from shaking.

 

Leuthil smiled widely as they exchanged the golden rings and the cheers of the guests made them deaf once again…

 

 

 

“You’ve made a masterpiece with that dress, my lady.” Galdor whispered to the princess who had managed to stand beside him some time during the ceremony.

 

“Thank you my lord…” Aleth said keeping her gaze on the crowd. “And congratulations for your new post.”

 

“My king has honored me with a responsibility I do not deserve…” Galdor sighed almost sadly.

 

“If only one ellon deserves to be in council Galdor that is you…” Aleth said firmly. “My brother is not a kind of person to take these matters lightly. He has chosen you because he trusts you more than anyone…”

 

“Exactly…” Galdor said. “And that is the main reason I doubt myself.”

 

Aleth turned slightly to see the grim expression on his face. “What do mean?”

 

“I feel I’m betraying him when I love you so fiercely behind his back…” Galdor whispered sadly. “If it comes down to choosing between you or your brother, I truly do not know what my choice would be…”

 

Aleth couldn’t say anything so she just fell silent and watched the royal couple pass, a huge crowd following them.

 

***

 

“May I retire my lord?” The new queen asked the king when the first light of the sun appeared in the sky. She had learned well that accept in their private hours, she had to keep the courtesy with Thranduil.

 

The merry elves had feasted all through the night, and it seemed that they had no head to call it a night anytime soon.

 

“Yes sugar…” Thranduil said smiling, his eyes slightly unfocused from the effect of the wine. “I’ll join you shortly…”

 

 

The queen rose and walked out of the crazy feast with all the regality she could manage, nodding and smiling at the guests who bowed to her as she passed them.

 

The king rose from his seat a few minutes later and he skipped the royal garden for the throne room, which was now deserted. He wanted to give Leuthil some time alone before he joined her, and he needed to cool down a bit after the crazy feast which had no head for ending.

 

Once in the throne room, memories of long years rushed back to him again. He had stood in that very same room as a prince many times; giving reports, receiving orders, or being reproached for disobedience. Those years were now far passed him. And now _he_ was the king of that throne.

 

He sat on the stairs below the throne and took off the wooden crown of red berries from his head, careful not to pull his hair with it. Everything seemed unfamiliar, temporal; the throne that seemed to poke his body in strange places, the crown that scratched his cheeks and the title he was carrying. The Elvenking dropped his head and closed his eyes listening to the far sound of fireworks.

 

“That crown feels heavy on your head doesn’t it?”

 

Thranduil lifted his head rapidly only to see Miklovand standing in front of him, a bottle of wine in his hand.

 

“Slightly…” he sighed.

 

“Can I sit with you?” Miklovand demanded doubtfully.

 

Thranduil merely nodded, and his foster brother sat on the stone stairs beside him with a little distance.

A few moments passed in silence before Miklovand spoke.

 

“It’s strange really…” he said. “That the mighty king Oropher fell along with two third of his army, while you survived.”

 

“What are you saying?” Thranduil barked.

 

“I’m not saying anything…” Miklovand said slowly. “But what do you expect when you do not talk about what happened...I know he was not my real father, but I loved him as one. I need to know.”

 

The expression on Thranduil’s face softened a little. As much as he hated Mikovand there was reasoning behind his words.

 

“He died charging a suicide attack on the Black Gate, trying to take down enemy’s forces so the Gate would be easily breached afterwards.” Thranduil explained. “He knew the deadly consequences so he ordered me off the field on scouts around the land…he didn’t want me to die there.”

 

Miklovand nodded and swallowed before asking. “Did he die honorably at least?”

 

“ _Honorably_?” Thranduil smirked bitterly. “There is _no_ honor in _dying_.”

 

Miklovand said nothing, hoping that Thranduil would open up to him which he did.

 

“I found him there, in the battle field…He was broken…drowning in his own blood…” the king said with a trembling voice, tears filling his eyes from the memory. “ There was _no_ honor there, Miklovand…”

 

Thranduil then covered his face with his large hands as if they would take the memories away.

Mikelovand gazed at his drained step brother for a long time, a lump growing in his own throat. He poked Thranduil with the bottle of wine.

 

“Here…” he said, passing the bottle to him. Thranduil accepted and drank a few deep sips from it.

 

A few moments passed before they both calmed a bit. Thranduil cleared his throat and looked up at him.

 

“I feel that you came here to talk about something else…” Thranduil said, eyeing his step brother.

 

“True…” Miklovand nodded. “I know that you merely kept my title because you did not want to dishonor me by dismissing me from the court in front of the entire realm, and I am thankful…” he said. “Though I know that you would never tolerate me anywhere around the court, and I know that you would soon dismiss me…”

 

Thranduil said nothing but he merely gazed at him so Miklovand continued.

 

“So I decided to keep my pride and resign myself before you kick me out…” he said stretching his hand to give his royal stamp to Thranduil.

 

The king thought for a few seconds then he stood and handled the bottle back to Miklovand.

 

“I do not like you Miklovand, and I believe I have every right to hate you…” Thranduil said, looking him straight in the eye. “Yet I cannot deny your services to the realm and to my father…my hatred may extend as far as sending you on far away missions so I don’t need to see you every day.”

 

He folded Miklovand’s fingers around the stamp with his own, uncharacteristically gentle.

“You will keep your royal sign as well as your royal title and post. I do not dismiss anyone merely because I dislike them…” he said.

 

But before leaving he pulled Miklovand closer so that his face was inches from his and then he pierced the shorter ellon with his eyes.

“  _Loyalty_ is the most valued quality in my court…” the king finished gravely, secretly threatening his step brother for any attempt of treason.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Once in the royal chambers, Leuthil collapsed on the stool in front of the dressing table. She looked at herself in the mirror. A queen looked back at her. Yes she was the queen of the woodland realm now, the beloved wife of the Elvenking; and she knew that from now on she had the same responsibility towards the people that Thranduil had.

 

The sound of the wooden door opening caught her attention and she looked up at Thranduil who was locking the door, ensuring their privacy. He was a magnificent sight to observe. His hair was worth all the gold in middle-earth. His unique dark eyebrows made his aquamarine eyes glitter wildly and the perfect cheekbones and his strong nose made him look like a supernatural being from another universe.

 

He huffed out all the candles before coming to her, making the room dark accept for the light of the moon and the time to time light from the fireworks outside that lightened his face. He stood behind her, looking at her in the mirror. Despite all the wine he had drank he seemed cognizant.

 

“Did the wedding please my queen?” he asked tenderly as he caressed her hair from her shoulder.

 

“Everything was perfect…” Leuthil said, smiling at him in the mirror.

 

He leaned and left a trail of burning kisses along her shoulder. She closed her eyes and grabbed his hair gently to encourage the contact but he ended it too soon, straightening again to look at her in the mirror once more.

 

“You did not ask me for a wedding present…” he said playfully, still running his fingers in her curls.

 

Leuthil suddenly realized that in fact he hadn’t given her a wedding gift and she hadn’t even thought of it. She was so happy to be his that she even didn’t care.

 

“Thranduil there is no need…” but her words were silenced when she saw what Thranduil was holding in his hand.

 

Placed on a black velvet piece of fabric was a necklace of shining gems and sapphire. Even in the darkness of the room it shone like the moon itself.

 

Leuthil turned on her stool to face Thranduil, eyes locked on the perfect jewel.

 

“Thranduil…” she breathed. “What have you done?”

 

“I designed…” he said chuckling. “I bought…and then I ordered for the most perfect jewel in middle-earth to be made.”

 

Leuthil looked up at him, eyes filled with disbelief.

 

“Oh and I _threatened_ …” Thranduil said with pride. “That I would caught off the hands of the jewelers if they fail to make it the way I wanted it.”

 

When he saw Leuthil’s wide eyes he chuckled louder. “Don’t worry, nobody lost his hands…”

 

Leuthil smiled as she stood. “You’re such a tyrant!”

 

Thranduil gently turned her so he could place the necklace on her bare neck.

 

Leuthil gazed at the perfect jewel for long moments. The stones felt cold on her warm skin and they matched her eyes perfectly.

 

She then turned to face Thranduil.

“Thranduil…you shouldn’t have to do this…” she said guiltily. “I do not deserve this…”

 

She was silenced by his long finger on her lips.

 

“You are the most cherished treasure of the Elvenking…” he said with a frown. “…Everything belongs to you; my body, my soul…and my life…this is nothing.”

 

She stared in his eyes and she saw a powerful king. With those unruly golden hair, those dark straight eyebrows and those piercing eyes; he was the manifestation of the beauties in Arda; he was the wild itself. She considered herself the luckiest female in the world that this perfection should be hers; that this wild power was for her, and her alone.

 

His eyes dropped from hers to her lips and he leaned to steal a long lingering kiss from her. His warm mouth claimed hers and he ran his eager tongue on her bottom lip, urging her to open up to him and she complied.

 

She moaned in his mouth as his tongue tangled with hers. He grasped her hair and bent her back slightly and he kissed her like that as he ran his fingers along her spine, sending shivers down her body. She reveled at the feeling of his firm chest pressing on her soft breasts and she felt a fire start inside her threatening to burn the entire woodland into ash.

 

He struggled with the laces of her garment as he kissed and nipped her neck. She tilted her head to give him easy access which made the crown fall from her head.

 

They paid no heed to the crown that was sent rolling on the floor or the pieces of clothes made of the finest fabric that dropped around their feet as they ridded each other from their outfit, each one trying to reach the other’s naked skin faster than the other in a silent competition.

 

Leuthil gasped when Thranduil picked her up and carried her to the bed, dropping her on the sheets with no care as he hovered above her.

 

“You have no patience, your majesty…” she giggled.

 

“Neither do you, wife…” he said and claimed her lips again, rubbing her breasts in his palm and making her moan in pleasure.

 

“Oh, Thranduil…” she cried when she felt his hot mouth around her nipple.

 

He kissed his way down her abdomen and pushed her legs apart, caressing her inner thighs. He licked there on her core and made her cry out his name in pleasure.

 

He did not let her climax though and pulled himself up to kiss her again as he placed his member on her heat and pushed inside with no warning.

 

She cried out as he filled her with no mercy and dug her nails on his shoulders. He started rocking himself in and out of her, sending waves of pleasure she could not endure.

 

After a few thrust she felt her peak was close. He felt it too and he pulled himself out of her, making her cry in unanswered desire.

 

“Together…” he explained mischievously, when she looked at him with complain and then he buried himself deep inside her again, making her moan from the feeling of his huge member inside her tightness once again.

 

Three times he did that to her, sending her on edge and pulling her back making her cry in frustration. They were both covered in sweat and as he pumped into her with increasing force, she could tell by the way the vein on his forehead had popped out that he was close too. She on the other hand, was exploding.

 

“Finish me…” she begged. “Please…”

 

“Say my name…”he groaned. “I need to hear it on your lips…”

 

“Thranduil…oh yes, Thranduil…Thranduil”

 

She climaxed and tightened around him as he spent his seed inside her, filling her with his warmth. He pumped a few times more to make sure she was fully spent and then he collapsed on her, digging his head in her shoulder as he panted.

 

She lifted her hand and caressed his golden hair as she kissed his neck were she could reach, reveling at the pleasant feeling of his weigh on her. After a few moments he pulled out of her and rolled on his back, eyes closed and still breathing heavily as if he had ran a thousand miles.

 

She rolled on her side so she could watch him as he tried to cool down. She studied his face with every detail and then she scanned his magnificent body with no shame. He was hers now.

 

“You’re staring…” he said, eyes still closed.

 

“It’s not my fault you look so stunning after you make love…” she said with a giggle.

 

He opened his eyes and looked up at her.

“You should be unconscious now by the way I ravished you…” he said with a chuckle.

 

“Well I’m a strong elleth…” she said proudly.

 

“Oh really?” he said mischievously as he rolled on top of her once again. “Let’s see ‘ _how’_ strong you are…”

 

Her heart stirred in her chest, but he merely kissed her lightly. For long moments they just lay together and shared tender kisses.

 

“I love you…” Thranduil said finally, looking at her eyes. “I will always protect you… even from myself.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I assume there is still someone out there who is following this story, so I just keep posting!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long years passed and Thranduil did the best he could to bring his people prosper and happiness. Yet darkness reached his land and soon the once beautiful forest of Greenwood crawled with orcs and spiders.

 

 

“Do you think Amroth will help us, majesty?” Galdor asked as he rode his horse next to Thranduil.

 

“I can only hope so…” Thranduil said. “Though I am positive…this evil is also a threat to him.”

 

Galdor merely nodded but his grim expression made Thranduil frown.

 

“Tell me…” he ordered. “What is it that you’re thinking?”

 

“We’ve heard rumors that Amroth is not very occupied with kingly duties these days…” he said carefully. “They say he’s planning to turn over the power.”

 

“Did your _spies_ tell you that?” Thranduil asked with a smirk, eyeing his steward who was now his right hand in court.

 

Galdor smirked back yet with a heavy heart. The amount of power and authority that the king had given him through these years was not comparable to anyone. But although he had worked hard for this absolute trust, some had become quiet jealous in court and then rumors had been spread that Galdor had even his own band of spies all around middle-earth, separate from the king. Thranduil though, paid no heed to the fact that many were not satisfied with the full authority he had given to his loyal friend and he often made jokes from the rumors when he was in a good mood.

 

They rode in silence after that small talk. Thranduil rode in the middle as always with Galdor on his right, Lord Daitrid on his left and two other guards, one at the front and one at the back. Their trip to Lorien had been uneventful except for a group of orcs that had attacked them, which was not an uncommon thing.

 

Thranduil was deep in thought, his frown tied, making a deep vertical line on his forehead. If Amroth would agree to unite his troops with him, he could rid the great forest from this evil. He could push them out and they would never dare to return to the elven forest again. If only Amroth would help.

 

Finally the gates of Lorien appeared from afar. The guards at the gates lowered their heads in respect for the king of Greenwood and they entered the Golden wood. The leaves were yellow as it was autumn and they made a great roof of gold above them.

 

When they reached the palace, king Amroth was already at the front gates to greet them. He was just the way he had been when Thranduil had last seen him in the Last Alliance. He was very handsome and he was in golden robes and a golden circlet that matched the leaves above him. Thranduil dismounted as a guard ran to take their horses.

 

“King Thranduil…” Amroth greeted with a smile. “Welcome to Lorien.”

 

“Thank you my lord…” Thranduil said as he put a hand on his chest as a gesture of respect. “It’s good to see you again my king. It’s been a long time.”

 

“Truly…” Amroth said.

 

“May I present my councilors, Lord Daitrid…” Thranduil said.

 

“Yes I believe we’ve met in the time of king Oropher…” Amroth smiled at the lord.

 

“You have a good memory my king…” Daitrid said, smiling back.

 

“…and lord Galdor.” Thranduil continued.

 

Galdor lowered his head in respect as Amroth scanned him.

 

“So you are lord Galdor they all talk about…” Amroth said. “The one who has the unquestionable authority from the Elvenking.”

 

Galdor raised his eyebrows but before he could find suitable words to answer, Thranduil talked instead of him.

 

“That is true my lord…” he said seriously. “Anyone who has such loyalty and quality would be cherished in my realm.”

 

Amroth gazed at Thranduil for a second, but then he smiled warmly.

 

“Of course…” he said. “Come now, I believe you would like to rest before our meeting in the evening.”

 

“That will be great…” Thranduil smiled back as the lord of Lorien took them to their chambers.

 

 

 

They were given three separate chambers with a nice big bed and windows facing the woods. Thranduil headed out of his chamber to find a servant to fetch him water.

 

He hadn’t gone a few steps when he heard someone calling him from the end of the corridor. When he turned and saw Elrond approaching him, his jaw dropped open.

 

“My lord?” he gasped as a wide smile claimed his lips. “I didn’t know you would be here…”

 

Elrond reached Thranduil and embraced him in a fatherly embrace.

 

“I was passing the woods when I heard you’ll be here, I decided to stay and pay you a visit…” Elrond said when they broke. “…since Amroth told me you’re going to talk to him about an important issue.”

 

“Well I must say it’s a fantastic surprise.” Thranduil said still smiling. “It’s been a long while.”

 

“Indeed…” Elrond nodded.

 

“I heard about your wife’s departure…” Thranduil said carefully. “How are you dealing my friend?”

 

“Well…” Elrond sighed. “I take comfort in the fact that I might just see her again.”

 

Thranduil nodded, he had the same feeling towards the departure of his own mother. Though he couldn’t imagine the pain the lord of Rivendell was going through. He couldn’t even think of Leuthil ever leaving him and he believed the lord was dealing well, for if he had been in his place, he would’ve gone mad.

 

 “How is your lovely queen?” Elrond asked changing the subject. “Still no royal babies in the way?”

 

“My lady is fine…” Thranduil said. “But with this evil that is taking over us, _that_ must wait…”

 

“You’re running out of time Elvenking!” Elrond teased and made Thranduil chuckle.

 

 “Well, I’ll see you in the meeting…” Elrond continued as he passed Thranduil.

 

***

 

It was nearly sundown when the high lords finally sat behind a long table to discuss their matters.

Amroth was at the head of the massive table, with Thranduil on his right and Elrond on his left. On Thranduil’s right sat Galdor and Daitrid and on Elrond’s side sat Celeborn; whom Thranduil clearly did not understand the reason of his attendance.

 

“I hope you do not mind that I’ve called lord Celeborn and lord Elrond…” Amroth told Thranduil. “You said this was about the evil spreading near us and I thought the lords would like to hear.”

 

“Of course not my lord…” Thranduil smiled.  He had known Celeborn for a long time, but he did not exactly approve of his choice of partner. Thranduil did not trust the magic from the rings of power and he also did not trust Galadriel. Perhaps it was an old habit he had inherited from Oropher. So after their marriage he had become distant form Celeborn, but he didn’t exactly dislike him.

 

“So tell me…” Amroth ordered. “What is it that you want to tell me?”

 

“I take it that you already know why I am here my king. The evil is spreading in the woods. Everyday my patrols have bloody encounters with them. They attack villages. Last week we destroyed a nest of spiders only two hours from _your_ capital.” Thranduil said. “This evil is a threat to both of us, and a threat to the entire middle-earth if we don’t stop it here. We can destroy it now when it’s weak and new.”

 

Amroth had dropped his head, watching his long fingers instead of Thranduil. When he did not say anything Thranduil continued.

 

“Join your troops with me my king…” he said gravely. “Ride out with me to battle, and let this be the end of it.”

 

A few seconds of silence passed before Amroth finally raised his head and looked Thranduil in the eye.

 

“Your words are courageous my king, yet I do not intend to take my troops to battle…” he said. “These orcs and spiders are threat to your land not mine.”

 

Thranduil frowned deeply, his face a mask of confusion.

 

“These spider nests and orc camps are even closer to _your_ land than mine king Amroth…” he said perplexed. “I must confess I do not understand your calmness.”

 

Thranduil caught the strange looks that Amroth exchanged with Celeborn but he could not comprehend the meaning of it. And then he saw the reproaching look Elrond threw at both of them.

He felt Galdor shift beside him as he leaned to whisper in his ear.

_“Something’s going on…”_

 

Thranduil knew this already. It was hard to miss. And he was growing impatient.

 

“My lords…” he said in a dangerously low tone, eyeing all of them. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

 

The strange looks were exchanged again. It took Amroth forever to manage his sentences and answer Thranduil’s demanding gaze.

 

“They are not a threat to me king Thranduil…” he said slowly. “Because Lady Galadriel and lord Celeborn have recently put up a magic to protected Lorien from the evil, using the elven rings.”

 

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of freezing water on Thranduil’s head, as if an iron hand had torn his heart apart. He could not breathe. He could not think. He could feel boiling blood rush in his head. _This_ was betrayal.

 

Daitrid pushed a small piece of parchment under the king’s hand. ‘ _The contract with king Oropher’_ the paper said.

 

Thranduil did not need to be reminded. He had been witness to that contract; the oath that both Amdir and Oropher had taken, never to use the magic from the rings of Sauron in defense of their realms.

 

Thranduil took his time to cool down. The blow of the news was too much for him. He had deeply hoped that Amroth would join him in defense of their shared land. But the witch’s trick had taken Amroth down and this changed things. This changed everything.

 

He dropped his head and rubbed his eyes, buying some time to find suitable words that were not insulting enough to destroy the relation between the two lands.

 

Elrond was still reproaching Amroth and Celeborn with his intense glare. Celeborn was silent and gazing at an unknown spot on the wall in front of him. Amroth on the other hand was judging Thranduil’s reaction attentively; as if enjoying the turmoil the king of Greenwood was going through.

 

“You…” Thranduil started finally with a voice shaking from anger. “You’ve violated the contract…”

 

Amroth smiled, as if he was dealing with a brainless elfling.

 

“That contract was between our fathers Thranduil, not us…” he said calmly.

 

“ _That_ was an oath between our _houses_ ; our bloodlines!” Thranduil corrected with a voice that was gradually rising. “I was witness to it, and so were you!”

 

“True…” Amroth said in a peaceful tone that made Thranduil even angrier. “Yet I wouldn’t have risked the safety of my people for the sake of a silly contract.”

 

“A _silly_ contract?” Thranduil said with disbelief. “You gave us your word…”

 

“My _father_ gave you _his_ word…” Amroth said firmly. “Though I would’ve gladly kept his oath if Oropher had still been the other side of the contract.”

 

A deadly silence fell across the room. The lords did not dare to breathe as they were watching Thranduil’s reaction to this not very hidden insult. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together. His eyes grew darker and there was a twitch in the vein on his neck.

 

“What does that suppose to mean?” he said behind clenched teeth.

 

Amroth rolled his eyes and sighed.

 

“It means that you are not your father…you have neither his authority nor his wisdom.” he said. “Once we rode out with Oropher, it caused nothing but loss… you are not even half of what Oropher was, I will never follow you to another mindless battle as my father did.”

 

“My king!!!” Elrond finally barked. “Please…there is no need for being so harsh.”

 

If Thranduil would have crawled on the table and smacked Amroth in the face no-one would’ve been surprised. But he remained calm, focusing instead on keeping his breathing steady.

 

“No it’s alright my lord…I’m not insulted.” Thranduil said with a chuckle, his expression changing into a fake smile. “These words are coming from a king that is so weak that he has handed his land to a witch!”

 

“Do not insult me Oropherion!” Amroth suddenly yelled, smacking his fist on the table as he jumped to his feet, causing the glasses of water to rumble dangerously.

 

Thranduil also stood, still chuckling, though the thick vein popping out along his forehead showed that the rage was taking over him.

 

Except Celeborn, the other lords in the meeting also stood to prevent any possible violence between the two kings.

 

 “You’ve only found a short term solution to the problem.” Thranduil said. “How long you think this magic will defend your land? When Sauron returns…”

 

“He will _not_ return!” Amroth yelled. “’ _His return’_ is merely a hallucination in your paranoid mind!”

 

“ENOUGH!!!” Thranduil yelled. “Stop insulting me!”

 

Amroth fell silent as Thranduil pierced him with his eyes. It was clear that Amroth had taken Thranduil to his limits. The two kings glared at each other like lions, ready to tear each other apart. Then the Elvenking came a few steps closer to stand face to face with Amroth, making everyone tense. Elrond even went a step closer to the catfight in order to prevent the kings from murdering each other if necessary…

  

“One day, when they look back in history they will hold _you_ responsible for the survival of this evil…” Thranduil said looking at Amroth, then he darted his eyes on the other lords. “Your ignorance will destroy us all.”

 

Amroth said nothing, nor did anyone else.

 

“Lord Galdor, Lord Daitrid…” Thranduil barked without looking at them. “We’ll leave immediately.”

 

“There’s no need for such a rush…” Amroth started but he was interrupted by Thranduil.

 

“Thank you for your hospitality my king…” he said as he bowed slightly. Then he turned on his hills and stormed out of the hall, Galdor and Daitrid following.

 

***

_“Thranduil!”_

 

“Get the horses ready…” he said as he walked through the corridors.

 

“But my king it’s night…” Daitrid said. “Should we not wait until morning…?”

 

“No!” The king barked.

 

_“Thranduil wait!”_

 

“My king, I believe lord Daitrid is right…” Galdor said breathless from the fast pace the king had taken. “It’s not right for your safety to travel through night.”

 

Thranduil suddenly stopped and turned rapidly to face his steward, his face inches from Galdor.

 

“I will not stay here another minute!” he said firmly, his face turning a dark red.

 

_“Thranduil!”_

 

He finally looked up angrily to see Elrond running through the corridor to reach him. He felt even angrier.

 

“Get the horses!” he barked at his two companions, his eyes fixed on Elrond.

 

Galdor exchanged a meaningful look with Daitrid. The lords knew no argument would be useful to change the flaming king’s order so they just bowed and left for the stables.

 

Thranduil burned Elrond with his eyes when he reached him panting.

 

“You knew!” he hissed. “And yet you let them humiliate me like that!”

 

“Thranduil, I was just informed hours before you…” Elrond said quickly. “There was no time to tell you…”

 

Thranduil smirked sarcastically and turned, but Elrond grabbed his elbow.

 

“I never meant for you to be humiliated or insulted like that.” he said gravely, looking at Thranduil’s aquamarine eyes. “ _Please_ believe me, my friend.” 

 

Thranduil scanned Elrond deeply. For a moment the lord feared that he would not believe him, and that their friendship they had worked for would be lost. But the expression on the king’s face gradually softened and he dropped his eyes and sighed.

 

“I know my lord…” he whispered. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have accused you as such.”

 

Elrond judged Thranduil utterly safe so he slowly released his arm and nodded. Thranduil sighed and grazed his hand in his golden hair in frustration as he paced a small distance back and forth. He was angry and betrayed, but more than that he was scared. _Fear_ was one of the many feelings the kings should not show, and he was trying his best; but he knew from inside that he was horrified from the dark future of his land.

 

“What are you planning to do Thranduil?” Elrond asked with concern. “You have another plan, don’t you?”

 

“Of course I have another plan…” Thranduil said, coming to a halt. “But I had hoped not to be needy of it.”

 

“May I ask what your other plan is?” Elrond said carefully, knowing that in this state of fire Thranduil might just misunderstand any careless words and the friendship between the noldor and the silvan would be lost.

 

Thranduil looked at Elrond for a long time as if trying to figure out where to start his tale.

 

“Moving!” he finally said.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Before my father fell, he had sent me and four others to scout our land for a suitable place to move to.” He explained. “We had found a series of massive caves to build up a huge stronghold, and my father wanted to move the royal family inside it and the villages around it. So in case of a severe attack he’d be able to shield his people inside.”

 

Thranduil then sighed again before continuing. “When we decided to march to war the plans were pended. And after the war there was no need for it, until now.” he said. “I do not have the strength to fight this evil off; I am currently keeping it at bay with the lives of my people. But I do not know how much longer this can stand. I need to move my people to a safer place. I have to protect my own.”

 

Elrond listened carefully and then he nodded his agreement, though he felt sorry for both the Silvan people and their king. Oropher and his companions had been forced to move many times and it was unfair to be forced to move again. But he understood the king’s decision and the reasoning behind it, though he could clearly predict that it will not be without its difficulties.

 

“So you plan to start building a stronghold out of these caves…” he said.

 

“Start? No!” Thranduil said with raised eyebrows. “You truly underestimate me master healer! We’ve been building the stronghold for twenty years now.”

 

Elrond’s eyes widened with surprise. He remembered the day in Gil-galad’s tent when Thranduil had told the high king that he was shrewder than Oropher. Today Elrond understood the true meaning of it. In all the meetings and councils with other lands Thranduil had screamed that Sauron’s evil will return but no-one had paid heed to it, as they were all afraid of even thinking about the possibility. But it seemed that the Elvenking had not sat impassive, watching the others deny his argument as his subjects lost their lives. He had prepared for what he predicted would come over them.

 

“Good!” Elrond said with a smile. “Very good!”

 

“Though I believe we still have a few years ahead of us until the fortress would be ready to take inhabitants.” Thranduil sighed. “We would need great defense force to keep the orcs and spiders at bay until then…”

 

“Perhaps I can give you hand in that.” Elrond said, knowing that this king was too proud to ask for any help, especially now that he had been declined once.

 

Thranduil’s dark eyebrows rose dramatically. He knew he would have to force every lad in his land to the military service if he was to hold this evil back and spare enough time to make the stronghold ready. He had been denied from the main source he had thought help would come from but it seemed that another light was showing in his darkness.

 

“Are you offering me help?” he asked doubtfully.

 

“I may not be able to hand you a full army…” Elrond explained. “But I can definitely give you a number of legions to join your patrols…just enough to keep your land safe for a short time.”

 

Thranduil thought for a second and then he frowned, looking at Elrond with distrust.  

 

“What do you ask of me in return?” he asked.

 

“Nothing!” Elrond chuckled.

 

“Nothing?!” Thranduil raised his eyebrows even higher.

 

“Do you even know the meaning of ‘ _friend’_ , Thranduil?” Elrond said seriously. “I’m your friend, and I’m offering you help as a friend. Beside as you said, this evil will affect the entire middle-earth, and I am one of those who are out there watching over this precious peace.”

 

Thranduil suddenly looked so young and lost to Elrond. Truly he had no reason to think of his actions as friendly as he had been treated so unfriendly from his own kin just an hour ago. The Elvenking dropped his head and said nothing.

 

“It is not weakness to ask a friend for a favor Thranduil…” Elrond said. “Beside this danger is threat to all, not just you.”

 

“I have nothing to offer you in return…” Thranduil said looking up at the lord.

 

“Some medical herbs from your perfect forest would do, I believe…” Elrond said smiling.

 

A faint smile claimed Thranduil’s lips and he nodded.

 

“Yes…” he whispered. “I think I can manage that!”

 

Elrond chuckled.

 

“I’ll wait for your letter…” the lord of Imladris said.

 

Thranduil nodded and Elrond turned to leave for his chamber. He had paced a few steps when Thranduil called him.

He turned towards him. The Elvenking was standing in front of a huge window that elicited the red light of sundown and the golden trees in the forest. Thranduil, with his heavenly features, tall and slender form and shimmering hair perfectly matched the golden forest behind him, as if he was a part of it by nature.

 

“Yes Thranduil?” Elrond said.

 

“Thank you…” the Elvenking said. “For looking out for me. I hope I can pay you back sometime.”

 

“Maybe you would…” Elrond said with a smile. “Who knows?”

 


	25. Chapter 25

The freezing wind, howling through the trees cut through their thick cloaks and reached their flesh and bones like sharp daggers. It clearly warned that a very cold winter was in the way and that made the Elvenking even more concerned.

 

Winter made it all harder. Sending supplies to the new stronghold would be harder, travelling would be more difficult and that would mean delay in all the plans; and delay would mean more danger on his people. Even if the few legions from Imladris were to aid them, winter would make their journey nearly impossible.

 

 They rode through the woods in an uncomfortable silence. The sour expression on Thranduil’s face had made the mood of all companions bitter. It had been two days travel and all the time the feeling of the groups had been such. All of them were deep into their own secret thoughts.

 

“My king…” the guard in the front turned his horse to face them. “It is not safe to travel further through the night; perhaps we should set a camp here.”

 

“No need to waste time soldier…” Thranduil said emotionlessly. “Keep going for another hour or two.”

 

“My king…” Galdor said carefully, his voice rough from lack of speech. “He’s right; we’re reaching the borders of Greenwood, it is not safe anymore. Perhaps we should take a rest and continue in the morning.”

 

“Galdor!!!” Thranduil nearly yelled, as he turned his horse rapidly to face his steward. “I said; _keep moving_!”

 

A deadly silence fell upon the companions as the king burned his lifetime friend with his glare. Galdor never remembered Thranduil giving him _that_ look; the look that could bring a dragon down, the look he had inherited directly from Oropher. The steward felt strange. In fact he had been feeling strange for a long while now.

 

Since the king had taken him to the council, he had been given countless posts and responsibilities. Thranduil trusted him more and more in the affairs of the realm, but the trust and friendship that had existed between them before was fading within each day, or at least Galdor felt that way. Thranduil spoke to him lesser, and when he spoke it was nearly always about business. Never these days had the king asked how he was, and in return Galdor felt too distant to ask Thranduil how ‘ _he’_ was dealing. Of course he could see how the king was, and it was breaking his heart. The once joyful, healthy Thranduil who was always full of life had become very different through his years of kingship, and especially in these last centuries.

 

The king that Galdor loved more than his own life had become more cheerless and unstable within each day. Rarely nowadays he participated in the usual feasts or even small gatherings. He talked less, he ate less and he depended too much on wine. And he was always on edge, getting mad so easily from the smallest things.

 

In that moment that Thranduil was facing him with clear anger that was truly unnecessary he felt himself drift away more from the only friend he had known in his life. The king looked as if he was able to kill Galdor for this small disagreement. Galdor felt Thranduil slip further away from him.

 

“Yes my king…” he whispered after long moments of receiving Thranduil’s intense glare. The king was definitely on edge with that vein popping out on his forehead and those red eyes and widened nostrils. “As you wish...”

 

It seemed that his submission slightly calmed Thranduil as his features softened a little. The king turned his horse and continued his ride without another word, the others following. Daitrid exchanged a meaningful look with Galdor as they rode behind Thranduil, neither of them having the heart to ride beside him.

 

Thranduil did not see their frustrated faces though he could clearly imagine their dim expressions. It even surprised himself how he so easily lost his temper these days, breaking the heart of those he did not wish to hurt. He tightened his grip on the horse’s rein. The pain it caused in his palms made him calmer. As if he was sentencing himself on a secret punishment for being so harsh. He knew though that he had to do something real about his unstable mood, or he would lose all those whom he loved.

 

The speed of the events that happened next was hard to follow even by his great elven senses. First he heard a whistle through the woods without seeing the black arrow cutting the air. His eyes found the arrow just when it hit the guard in front of him, and in a flash the soldier fell from his horse to the solid ground.

 

The next moment he heard Galdor crying his name as he jumped from his mount. And in a blink of an eye Galdor had thrown himself on him and they both fell from Thranduil’s horse together, missing the arrow that was sent towards the king.

 

His own rapid heartbeat was all he could hear for the short moments that Galdor lifted himself from atop him and took out his sword rushing to fight the band of orcs attacking them. And then he saw Daitrid and the other guard following his steward.

 

He took out his own sword as he straightened back on his feet. They were on an attack from at least 40 orcs and they already had lost one man. Thranduil joined his companions without a second thought.

 

Unaware of the others’ situation, the king kept soaking his hands with the blood of orcs. He didn’t count how many he took down; he didn’t look to see if his friends were still uninjured. He only focused on killing. This was the game of battle that he had come to learn its rules very well; don’t think and just kill.

 

_“Thranduil…”_

 

Galdor’s call made him look up from the orc he had just slain and he realized that many were still left.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor called again, after he killed the orc that had interrupted him. _“RUN!!!”_

 

He understood the reasoning behind Galdor’s order. His life had been always more valued than the others and the steward only thought of his safety and in that situation clearly it was safer for him to just jump on his horse and run away. But it made Thranduil’s blood boil in his veins. Did Galdor truly think this of him? Did he truly think that he would abandon his friends to save himself?

 

He groaned from the thought as he charged at the new orcs attacking him, this time counting the ones he was slaying. The king was like a flaming dragon, burning his enemy with a sword in each hand, cutting his way through his enemies.

 

Galdor and Daitrid were both skilled swordsmen and the remaining guard was a trained soldier. Thranduil was also a seasoned warrior; but despite all this it was a true miracle when they finished the pack and the few orcs left just ran off into the forest.

 

It took them a few seconds to catch their breath. None of them could believe that they had taken down so many. The forest floor was covered with orc corpses and their horrible smell spread in the air. Three of their horses were killed and one severely injured, but they had more important matters at hand. Thranduil ran to the fallen soldier who was close to him. He shook him hard and the young guard opened his eyes.

 

“My king…” he said in a hardly audible voice. “I’m sorry…”

 

“Shshsh” Thranduil said firmly, cutting the soldier tunic to reach the wound on his left shoulder. “Lay still, it’ll be alright.”

 

Galdor reached them as Daitrid and the other soldier ran to see if they could save the injured horse.

The steward kneeled beside Thranduil and helped him clean the soldier’s wound. The poor fellow hissed from the pain when Galdor pulled out the arrow with force and suddenly Thranduil caught him sobbing quietly. He scanned him secretly so that he wouldn’t make him uncomfortable.

 

He was very young. Perhaps this was his first time with such a huge responsibility; _to guard the king_. It broke the king’s heart to see him sob like this. His subjects had become so drained and cheerless because of the darkness; so hopeless.

 

He looked up at Galdor who had also noted the soldier grieving. And when their eyes met Thranduil gestured for him to leave them. Galdor nodded and left to fetch some bandage to wrap his wound.

 

“Why are you crying…?” Thranduil asked softly, trying not to make the soldier shameful.

 

“I…I…I’m sorry…my king…” the youth stuttered, but he couldn’t stop his sobs. He tensed and tried to get up. But Thranduil pushed him back to the ground and began bandaging his arm with the clean fabric Galdor handed him.

 

“There’s no shame in weeping…” Thranduil said quietly. “Tell me…what’s troubling you?”

 

“Am I going to die?” the guard sobbed harder.

 

Thranduil felt a rock in his chest. What words of comfort could he give him? He opened his mouth but he suddenly realized he didn’t know the soldiers name. The Elvenking cursed himself for becoming so careless. He remembered a time not so long ago that he had remembered the name of nearly every individual in his patrols along with the name of their family members and their background. But now he didn’t even know the name of the squire protecting his life.

 

“What is your name…?” He asked softly.

 

“Ardalan, my king…”

 

“Well Ardalan…” Thranduil said kindly, pulling the soldier’s robes on him. “I’m not going to lie to you. I do not know if the arrow had been poisoned or not…”

 

Ardalan’s eyes filled with panic. “I don’t want to die…” he said simply.

 

“Listen …” Thranduil said, caressing his face. “I cannot promise that you’ll live…but I promise I’ll try anything in my power not to let you die…I just need you to believe me.”

 

Ardalan calmed a bit and then he nodded. Thranduil smiled and stood up. Then he turned towards the others. Galdor thought he had seen a slight part of the Thranduil he knew when he saw that concern and compassion in his face. But the scene of Daitrid finishing the injured horse off distracted him.

 

Daitrid looked up at them guiltily. The horse had been injured badly and it would’ve died anyway, but still it didn’t make it any easier.

 

“We’ve only one horse left, and one man down…” the lord said. “What’s your order my king?”

 

Thranduil thought for a second then turned to the other soldier.

 

“Get on my horse…” he ordered. “Ride to the capital as fast as you can, and get help.”

 

“Yes my king…” he said and ran to the horse.

 

“Get healers and guards…” Thranduil said as he watched the guard mount on his horse. “Ride fast…”

 

The soldier nodded and kicked Thranduil’s horse, and then he rode away, disappearing in the night.

Thranduil then turned towards the others.

 

“There’s a cave near here…” Daitrid said. “We can spend the night there.”

 

Thranduil nodded and gestured for Galdor to give him a hand. They picked up Ardalan together who moaned from pain and they followed Daitrid. The howling of the wolves could be heard from afar.

***

 

They dared not light a fire in the small cave. Thranduil helped Galdor lay Ardalan on the robe they had spread on the stone floor. The soldier hissed form pain and huddled himself. Galdor pulled up a thick robe on him and Thranduil pulled his head up, forcing him to drink some basic herbs they had with them. All the activities though were done in silence.

 

The sound of a groan made both of them look up, only to see Daitrid grab his thigh and lean on the wall of the cave.

 

Geldor glanced worriedly at Thranduil and then ran towards the lord.

“My lord?” he said, as he caught Daitrid from falling. “What happened?”

 

Thranduil caught the other arm and helped Daitrid sit on the ground.

 

“I think…” Daitrid said breathless. “I think I’m injured.”

 

“Let me see…” Thranduil said, as he reached for the lords leggings.

 

“No my king…It’s nothing” Daitrid said pulling his leg away. “It’s just a scratch…”

 

Thranduil held his thigh firm. “That was an order!” he said firmly, glaring at Daitrid.

 

Daitrid sighed and relaxed under Thranduil’s touch as he examined the wound after cutting the fabric a little more. It wasn’t deep, but it was a wound anyway. He secretly prayed, wishing it not to be poisoned. Galdor brought water and they washed and bandaged the scar.

 

A moan from Ardalan took Thranduil’s attention.

 

“I’ll take care of this…” Galdor said allowing Thranduil to go to the other injured.

 

Thranduil went to the guard who was shivering under the thick robe. The king felt his heart froze inside his chest as he felt Ardalan’s forehead. His face was soaked with cold sweat and he was shaking madly.

 

Thranduil looked around their supplies. There was nothing left to warm him up with. So he took off his own cloak and pulled it on Ardalan.

 

“M…m…my…king…” the soldier stammered. “Please…d…don’t…”

 

“Shshsh…” Thranduil said as he lay beside him and caressed his damp hair away from his forehead. “Relax…go to sleep.”

 

He started humming a song to him, and the guard gradually calmed, drifting into a healing reverie.

Thranduil looked up at where Galdor was pulling his own cloak on Daitrid who had also fallen sleep. Then the king pulled himself up and huddled across a wall.

 

After making sure Daitrid was sleep. Galdor crawled to where Thranduil was now shivering from cold.

 

“You must sleep too, majesty.” He whispered. “I’ll stand guard.”

 

“No need…” Thranduil said. “I can’t sleep anyway. You rest if you want to…”

 

The determination in Thranduil’s face was clear, so Galdor merely pulled himself up next to him and leaned his back on the wall. The adrenaline rush was too much for both of them to sleep now.

 

“I can’t sleep either…” he sighed.

 

A few moments passed in silence. There was only the sound of the crazy wind outside that disturbed the silence. It was amazing how their safe, uneventful journey had suddenly turned to a deadly one. It reminded them of what dark times they were living and that how easily they could lose each other.

 

“Galdor…” Thranduil whispered after long moments of silence, not looking at him. “It seems that I owe you another life…”

 

Galdor did not answer back. So Thranduil looked up at him. The steward had closed his eyes and relaxed his head back on the stone wall.

 

“That arrow would’ve definitely hit me if you weren’t there…” the Elvenking said.

 

“I rather not think of it…” Galdor sighed with eyes still closed as he leaned his head on the wall of the cave more comfortably. He hoped that Thranduil would drop the subject as even the memory was too horrible for him. If the arrow had indeed hit Thranduil, Galdor knew he would not live another day for the guilt would’ve killed him. 

 

“It could’ve hit you…” Thranduil continued gravely.

 

Galdor finally opened his eyes and tilted his head to the side to look at him in the eye. “Your life is too much of value majesty…” he said.

 

“Shut up!” Thranduil said angrily. It flamed him when Galdor reminded his higher rank like that. “I don’t want you to risk your life like that…”

 

Galdor chuckled and leaned his head on the wall again closing his eyes, which made Thranduil very annoyed. He had known this elf forever. Every line, every gesture, every expression; and he knew that Galdor was a much better person than himself. It pained him that his own life was valued more.

 

“I cannot lose you…” he whispered.

 

Galdor had not seen Thranduil’s face. He merely heard his voice but it startled him all the same. The steward opened his eyes and looked at Thranduil with surprise. It had been a long time since he had heard any word of compassion from Thranduil. He was surprised all the same to see Thranduil’s dropped head and deep frown.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

 

Thranduil looked up. The waves of fear and uncertainty filled his eyes. It reminded him of years before when Thranduil had been a very young prince.

 

“Don’t risk your life like that again…” he choked. “I can’t live without you by my side…”

 

Galdor’s jaw dropped open and he regarded Thranduil with wide eyes.

 

“Who are you and what have you done to my king?” he said seriously.

 

Thranduil smirked and rolled his eyes as he punched Galdor playfully on the shoulder. Then he huddled himself against Galdor and put his head on his shoulder just as he used to when they were kids. His golden hair poured on the stewards shoulder as he relaxed and closed his eyes. Galdor leaned his head on the wall again and closed his eyes. He could smell the scent of the pine trees from Thranduil’s shimmering hair; the smell that took him back centuries past, when they were just two little elflings rolling on the grass, free from any care. For long moments they just sat like that in a comfortable silence.

 

“I’m sorry for being so harsh today…” Thranduil whispered.

 

Galdor had known Thranduil for a long time. Enough to know how much an apology was hard for him. This proud king never admitted if he did anything wrong and so it amazed Galdor to hear him apologize. What also surprised him was how that simple request for forgiveness mended his broken heart, as if it was never broken.

 

“It’s aright…”he said.

 

“No…” Thranduil interrupted. “It’s not alright…you save my life and in return I break your heart…it’s not fair.”

 

The king then lifted his head and looked up at Galdor, his eyes full of regret.

 

“Ask something from me…” he said. “Let me make it up to you…”

 

A thought flashed in Galdor’s mind, a picture of himself asking Thranduil for Aleth. This was the only request he could have from Thranduil and yet he knew how much it would anger and upset his friend.

 

 Galdor gazed at Thranduil’s fine features for a long time. His unique eyes, his high cheekbones and strong nose; he knew all of them by heart. Was it even possible to love a friend that much? Could he even think of upsetting him?

 

He finally put a hand on Thranduil’s cheek and felt the impossibly soft skin there as he gently pulled the other elf’s head back on his shoulder. Thranduil complied and relaxed again, leaning on his lifetime friend.

 

“Just don’t push me away…” the steward said. “Don’t drift away from me…”

 

Thranduil said nothing, but merely huddled himself more against Galdor as the two waited through the dark, cold night.

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if you found any errors, I didn't have enough time to edit this properly.

“Ardalan…wake up!”

 

To his delight the young soldier opened his eyes, though with great effort. Thranduil smiled when he saw the brown sleepy orbs of the youth.

 

“My king…?” he stuttered with a hardy audible tone, as his throat was impossibly dry. Thranduil’s smile widened further as he reached for a skin of water and lifted Ardalan’s head to help him drink some of it. The guard tried to take the skin from the king but he finally gave up as his hands were trembling from weakness. He drank a few sips and collapsed back and closed his eyes again. He didn’t even have the strength to thank his king.

 

“Ardalan…” Thranduil called as he gently shook his shoulder. “Help is here…we should go.”

 

The soldier’s eyes opened again and he gazed at the king with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

 

“Come…” Thranduil said, putting his arm under his back to raise him. “We’re safe now.”

 

Ardalan groaned from the pain of being moved. It didn’t take a lot of effort from Thranduil to bring the youth into a standing position, as he leaned nearly all his weigh on the king. Thranduil made sure that he was supporting all his weigh before stumbling towards the cave’s entrance.

 

The light of the day shined upon them and the rays of the sun attacked their eyes. It took them a few seconds to get used to the light. It was nearly midday and the faint warmth of the sun felt good on them. Horses were there, at least ten of them. Guards had arrived along with healers. Galdor had already settled Daitrid on a horse in front of one of the new soldiers. The lord was awake and looked altogether well. Fortunately none of their injured were poisoned.

 

“We changed your bandages while you were sleep…” Thranduil explained as they stumbled towards one of the horses. “You didn’t wake though! You slept like a medli [bear].” He teased as he patted Ardalan on the shoulder. The soldier merely moaned in answer.

 

“Does that mean you agree that you’re a bear?” Thranduil chuckled which elicited a faint smile from the weak guard.

 

Galdor came closer and mounted on the horse. Then he reached down to help Thranduil pull up Ardalan in front of him on the rather small mount.

 

When the king made sure everyone was settled he hopped up the only vacant horse left. His thighs were numb and all his muscles hurt from cold. His eyelids were heavy from lack of sleep and he longed to get home and crawl under a warm blanket.

 

“Let’s go home…” he ordered.

***

When the company was safe back home, and the injured were taken to the healer’s wing of the palace safe and sound, Thranduil finally collapsed on the chair in his study. He was relieved and grateful for their safe arrival. These types of good fortune were rare in his life and he was thankful for it.

 

“Galdor…” he called the steward who had intended to collapse on the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He froze in midair though. “Call on an urgent council meeting…”

 

“Can’t it wait?” Galdor moaned, nearly bursting out to tears from exhaustion.

 

“No!” the king said simply.

 

The steward sighed before strolling out of the room with dropped shoulders. Thranduil chuckled at his expression, but once Galdor was out a deep sorrow claimed the king’s heart. Now that the vital issues were solved he had to think of the bigger disaster he had in hand. He sank into his chair and closed his eyes.

 

  _Moving_ had been always a terrifying for him. He was still sometimes haunted by nightmares of the several movements they were forced to go through when he had been young. They had always moved with hopes of a better future, hopes of a land of their own where no evil could reach them. But these dreams were always shattered into pieces. And each time they found a place to call home, that land happened to be another mirage.

 

The king stood and started pacing his study, his mind racing with thoughts. If he were to force these people to move again, then he would make sure this one would be the last.

 

The map of Greenwood was spread on a table in the corner. He stopped at it and studied the spot where the new stronghold was now built; far on the north of the river, away, far away from the evil in the south of his woods. _Yes_! This would be their last move.

 

There was a knock on the door and after his call of enter, the councilors came in. Except Daitrid who was in the healing room and Miklovand who was on a patrol, all were present. Telov and Hazar who were responsible for the affairs of the stronghold also followed after them. Thranduil once again marveled on the fact that Galdor could find all these people in a palace as massive as this in such a short time.

 

After the councilors greeted him they just stood there in the middle of the study which was a little preoccupied with all those people inside it. And they waited for the king to speak.

 

It took Thranduil a few seconds to search for the right words so that he could lessen the impact of the tragedy, in which he failed.

 

“Amroth declined our request.” He said simply.

 

 A number of gasps and a few regretful sighs were his answer. As he had predicted it took a few moment for his councilors to digest the news. Dolorod was the first to recover. He shoved his dark brown hair from his face angrily.

 

“So what now my king?” he asked. “What’s the plan?”

 

The others looked at Thranduil expectantly, as if he could suddenly bring out a magic stick from his pocket and solve all the problems with a swing.

 

“We had talked about this…” Thranduil said as he paced the room towards a small table on which there was a bottle of wine and a few glasses. “We have to move…”

 

The silence after his words was almost unbearable.

 

“But my king…” Lady Malons started. “This is not that easy…”

 

“I never said it is…” Thranduil said simply, sipping from the wine he had poured for himself, hoping that it would calm his anxiety. “It will take time and patience…”

 

“And a great deal of gold my king!” Holgailion suddenly burst out and made the king turn towards him.

 

“I haven’t spent a single coin from the taxes my lord…” Thranduil defended. 

 

“Yes my lord…” Telov agreed hastily as he took out a parchment to show Holgailion. “Lord Burish has sent us detailed reports on the finances. All the expenses of the fortress were covered by the precious and semiprecious stones that were found within.”

 

“And yet…” Holgailion said immediately. “We need to move countless villages up the river and it will take our entire budget.”

 

The lord then came a few steps closer to Thranduil, as if the closer he could get the more effect he could have on the king.

 

“My king…” he said. “Give me half of this budget and I will ride out with the royal army and force these foul creatures out of our lands.”

 

“The royal army is as facilitated as it can be…” Thranduil said hastily. “You know this Holgailion. And yet we are outnumbered.”

 

“Then let me raise the troops…” Holgailion argued. “Make the military service obligatory for all the boys who are old enough to fight…even encourage the girls if necessary.”

 

It was as if the king was burned by a flaming piece of metal. His eyes grew dark and a bitter expression claimed his face.

 

“And then what Holgailion?” he said angrily. “Force all the lads of my land to become soldiers? These are woodsmen, craftsmen, foresters, historians, poets; they are not _soldiers_ Holgailion…” then he came closer and burned the lord with his glare. “If I do as you tell me, in less than a generation all the culture of these people will fade. And there will be nothing left in their memory except the reminders of war and loss.” He said. “I cannot do this to them…I won’t.”

 

A deadly silence fell across the room as the king finished his second glass of wine and poured the third.

 

“So we’ll just abandon the forest then…” Alheru who had been silent until now said. “We’ll hide within our walls and let the forest fight her own battle.”

 

Thranduil opened his mouth but before he could say anything Alheru interrupted him angrily.

 

“I know you were not born in these woods my king, but this forest has nurtured you…” he said. “How can you abandon it to its fate?”

 

“I won’t…” the king said calmly. “The forest is mine and no-one will take it away from me, but I need to take my subjects to safer grounds so that I can protect the forest without the concern for their lives.”

 

Alheru sighed and looked away. The king then looked upon all of them.

“Please…if you have any other suggestions except turning all my land into a military base bring it forth…”

 

He waited a few moments, praying that somehow someone would come up with a better idea. But no-one did.

 

“The safety of our people is the priority…” lady Meriloth began carefully, eyeing everyone with her brown orbs. “And it seems that moving is the only choice.”

 

“It’s not the only choice.” Holgailion argued again with clenched teeth.

 

“With all due respect my lord, if you turn all the subjects of our king to soldiers, then who are you going to protect?” Meriloth nearly yelled. “The Silvan are worth nothing without their culture…you cannot force them into military service.”

 

Holgailion fell silent again, though he was not satisfied. No-one else complained further.

 

“Then it’s settled…” the king whispered bitterly. Then he turned to Telov and Hazar.

 

“How long will it take for the stronghold to take inhabitants?”

 

“At least two years my king…” Hazar answered. “If the villages would start re-building in their given locations now, they will be ready just when the stronghold is finished.”

 

Thranduil nodded and then he turned to Galdor.

 

“Give notice to the village leaders to get ready to move. Arrange for them to visit their new locations and give them the maps and the budget to start building their new homes. And control each move closely. Remember that the southern settlements must move first since they are in more danger.” Thranduil said turning away from them and facing the window. “I will visit the stronghold personally next week. Arrange meetings with the village leaders after the winter festival. I will talk to them in person.”

 

“As you wish my king.” Galdor said but then he frowned.

 

“What is it Galdor?” the king asked without even seeing his steward’s face.

 

“What should we do if anyone protests against moving?” Galdor asked carefully.

 

Although Thranduil had his back on his company he could feel their expectant gaze turn towards him. He took his time for a few seconds and sipped from his wine.

 

“Tell them that if they follow me to the new fortress I will protect their lives as their king and I will guarantee their safety. But if they wish to stay, I will no longer consider them as my subjects. I won’t be responsible for their welfare or their lives. And if they get hurt or killed by this evil then the blood is on their hands; not mine.”

 

The councilors exchanged meaningful looks but they remained silent.

 

“I expect everyone to do his part in this task…” Thranduil said firmly. “Dismissed…” And he just heard the company bow and leave.

 

As he sipped from his wine he kept gazing at his forest from the massive window. The trees of his land were now bare, and their branches pointed towards the sky as if praying for the spring to come soon. In a few days his trees would be covered with thick snow. And then in a few months they would be green again. He could hear them sing the winter songs already. He could sense the rivers run as if in his own veins and he could feel the heart of the creatures living in those woods as if beating in his own chest. _Leaving_ was like cutting off a part of his body; hard and painful.

 

The knock on the door made him turn just to see his queen and after days a smile claimed his lips. She was wearing a dark green garment and she had a silver tiara on her forehead that elicited her blue eyes and pale skin. He turned completely and opened his arms for her.

 

“Thranduil…” she sighed as she ran towards him like a small elfling.

 

He embraced her firmly. He pressed her to himself as if she would perish away if he loosened his grip.

 

“We became so worried when that guard came seeking help…” Leuthil said when they broke. “I was afraid that you were hurt…”

 

“I’m fine sugar…” Thranduil whispered caressing her face gently.

 

She nodded and kissed his palm. Then her gaze turned towards the empty bottle of wine and Thranduil’s glass which was resting beside it. During these last years of hardship she had learned to estimate the mood of her husband with the amount of wine he took in.

 

“I take it that Amroth has declined your request…” she said.

 

Thranduil nodded and he picked up his glass again. “The coward has handed his land to the elf witch.” He spat bitterly.

 

“That changes everything, doesn’t it?” Leuthil asked judging her husband’s face carefully.

 

“I just spoke with the council.” Thranduil said. “We’ll start the preparations for moving from tomorrow.”

 

The bitterness that fell across Leuthil’s face was too much for Thranduil to take. Her frown tied and her eyes darkened almost immediately.

 

“So we’re supposed to live in caves from now on!” she said sarcastically. “Just like primitive mortals…”

 

“They are hardly caves Leuthil…” Thranduil defended. “In fact they are nothing like caves. And we will live like high immortals…not primitive mortals.”

 

Leuthil smirked bitterly and turned towards the window. Thranduil studied her for a long time before he caressed her shoulder and draw her to him cupping her face.

 

“Have I ever taken you anywhere that you had disliked?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes.

 

Leuthil looked up at him, then she shook her head.

 

“Then trust me when I say you will like this new place…” he smiled.

 

Leuthil studied Thranduil’s face for a while. He didn’t look a day older than when she had first met him centuries ago. His eyes were still piercing as ever, his dark eyebrows still unique and his skin still impossibly soft; but when she looked in his eyes the dust of centuries of suffering were upon them, centuries that he had tried to protect them.

 

“I trust you Thranduil…” she whispered and dug her face in his firm chest. “I’m sorry…”

 

He tightened his embrace and held her for a long while.

 

“I’m sorry that you have to go through this…” he whispered.

 

“It’s not your fault.” She said as she broke. “You did all you could…”

 

“I have a request…” he said.

 

Leuthil frowned and waited.

 

“I’ve asked Galdor to arrange meetings with the village leaders so I can convince them personally.” He explained. Then his expression turned innocent and almost shy. “Will you accompany me?”

 

“Of course dear…” Leuthil said with a chuckle. “Yet it surprises me that you’re asking such a thing.”

 

“They like you…” Thranduil said as he smiled impishly. “I intend to misuse their sympathy.”

 

Leuthil chuckled again before rising on her tip toes to steal a kiss from his seductive lips. He smiled and leaned to kiss her back.

 

“I should go…” she said breathless after moments. He nodded and she kissed him on the cheek before turning towards the door.

 

“Leuthil…” Thranduil called and made her turn in midway. “Is Aleth alright?”

 

Leuthil thought for a second before answering. She was definitely caught off guard.

“I believe so…” she said. “Why?”

 

“I don’t know; she seems so alone…” Thranduil said worriedly. Then he came closer. “Do you happen to know if there’s any particular ellon she’s fond of? Or if she’s seeing anyone?” he asked.

 

The question surprised Leuthil to a great extent. Thranduil was usually not interested in these matters. And he was always so overprotective of the princess that no-one dared to talk to him about Aleth. He was now asking about her male interests so directly. Of course Leuthil knew about Aleth’s deep love for Galdor. She knew every detail, but the princess had made her swear she would never tell Thranduil. Although Leuthil had told Aleth a hundred times that she could talk to Thranduil about this, the princess had rejected the suggestion; fearing for Galdor’s wellbeing and position in court and in Thranduil’s complex heart.

 

“No I don’t know…” she said and cursed herself for lying to her husband like that. “She never said anything.”

 

Thranduil frowned and sank deep into his thoughts. He said nothing though.

 

“You should talk to her…” the queen said.

 

“I always thought that she would come to me if she needed anything…” Thranduil said.

 

“Thranduil, you’re the king. And she wouldn’t bother you for such personal matters.” She said. “She feels distant from you.”

 

Thranduil nodded and dropped his head.

 

“It will be good for her if you talked to each other.” Leuthil said. “And perhaps it will be good for you to spend more time with your family instead of drinking wine alone in your damp, dark study.”

 

This last part was more like a complaint and Thranduil raised his eyes just to see Leuthil’s frustrated features.

 

“Your point is taken my lady…” he said with a smile.

 

“Good…” Leuthil said with raised eyebrows. Then she gave him a sarcastic curtsey which made him chuckle and left.

 


	27. Chapter 27

 

It was a few days later that Galdor was walking through the forest with a fast pace. It was cold and walking quickly made him somewhat warm. The dried leaves cracked under his boots. He could already hear the waterfall and the cool breeze coming from it. If the weather would keep this temperature it would definitely snow tomorrow. He cursed the dark clouds above as he knew nothing would stop Thranduil from traveling to the stronghold tomorrow. Once the stubborn king decided something even the doom day itself couldn’t stop him. He wrapped himself tighter in the thick cloak while he finally reached the lake under the waterfall.

 

The slender figure standing beside the lake caught his attention. She had her back on him and could not see how he smiled from the sight of her. Her golden long curls, so similar to Thranduil’s in color, danced in the wind and took his breath away.

 

“My lady…” he whispered after getting close to her.

 

She turned and his smile widened from seeing her face. Her huge aquamarine orbs studied him for a while before her dark eyebrows tied in a deep frown.

 

“Finally the busy first councilor of the king decided to pay his _back street girl_ a visit!” she said sarcastically. Her tone was bitter and Galdor could swear the temperature dropped a few more degrees.

 

“Don’t say that my dear…”he said. “We had much to do…”

 

“Do not tell me that you could not steal away a single minute to see me sarta-aran [king’s trusty].” She woofed in a way he had only heard from Thranduil and Oropher for that matter.

 

He didn’t know if the name she used to call her made him feel that bad, or the way she said it. This name had become quite popular after Thranduil had given him full authority during one of the ceremonies years ago. The king had given him the right to decide on any matter instead of him. ‘Galdor’s word is the king’s word.’ He had said. After that the jealous ones had called him by that name. And Aleth knew well how he despised it. She could see how his eyes turned gloomy and she knew that she had hurt him. But it was only fair. He had been in the capital for three days now and he hadn’t come to see her once.

 

“Princess…” he said calmly, taking a step towards her. “I see you’re in a sour mood.”

 

“Shouldn’t I be?” she barked. “I wait days and days to see you and yet it seems you have more important matters at hand or perhaps you have other girls to attend to…”

 

He did not let her finish as he reached her waist and pulled her hard into a deep kiss. She tried to resist at first but he held her tight and when he invaded her slack mouth she finally gave in and moaned quietly in his mouth. He kissed her deeply, tangling his tongue to hers, drinking from her sweet essence. He tangled his fingers in her soft hair and marveled again at how similar it felt to Thranduil’s in his admiring firgers.

 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered after they broke. She looked up at him, a tingle of irritation still lingering in her eyes. “Your king brother has kept me preoccupied these last days and I’ve been careless with you…” he said and he leaned to kiss her lightly again. “Forgive me…”

 

She sighed and smiled. She loved him and she knew that she couldn’t hold anything against him for too long.

 

“I could always think of competing with any of my girl friends for the love of ellons when we were young…even Leuthil for that matter.” she said with a teasing tone. “But I never would’ve thought that I would be forced to compete my own brother for your love.”

 

He chuckled while he embraced her again. And a few moments passed in silence before Aleth looked up at him again.

 

“When are we going to tell Thranduil?” she whispered, still holding on to him.

 

“It’s been a while that I have intended to find him in a good mood and talk to him about our love…” Galdor sighed. “But that good mood is rare these days.”

 

Aleth sighed and nodded.

 

“Leuthil said we’re going to move again…” she said.

 

Galdor nodded. “The king has made his decision.” He said. “We’ll travel for the stronghold tomorrow with him. He wants to visit the fortress personally.”

 

“So you’re leaving again.” Aleth whispered sorrowfully.

 

“It won’t be long this time…” he assured as he caressed her hair out of her face. “We’ll be back in a few weeks. Though it doesn’t change the fact that I will miss you all the same, my little dove.”

 

Aleth broke their embrace and looked at him while she faked an insulted expression. Galdor knew well that she hated to be called ‘ _little dove’_ and he had said it only to become even.

 

“I am no dove master steward…” she said firmly. “I am an eagle and I must warn you that I have sharp claws.”

 

“That tongue of yours princess, works as a hundred sharp claws!” he teased.

 

She chuckled and kissed him on his cheek. Then she took out an object from inside her cloak and handed it to Galdor. He gazed at her closed fist doubtfully before taking it from her.

 

It was a round locket which clearly dated back to centuries ago. And it had a long sliver chain attached to it. When the princess saw his questioning look she smiled.  

 

“Open it…” she urged.

 

Galdor turned the fragile thing in his cold hands and with a click it opened. The first thing he felt was the familiar scent of Aleth coming from inside the locket. But when he looked inside of it he saw a lock of golden hair, perfectly tied with a string around the middle. He knew well that the hair belong to the elleth standing in front of him and it made his heart beat fast. He could hardly breathe as he looked up at her perfect eyes.

 

“It is an old custom of the Sindar…” she explained. “The elleth gives a lock of their hair to the one she loves. It shows her devotion and loyalty to that certain ellon…and that she would wait for him, no matter how long it takes.”

 

Galdor was speechless his eyes darted from her face to the locket and again back on her. He had been so careless, so coward. She had asked him to talk to Thranduil about their love a hundred times. She wanted him to be with her forever; but he had feared the reaction of the king. This perfect elleth, the princess of the woodland realm, the daughter of non other that king Oropher; the sister of king Thranduil himself was in love with him so deeply and he had been such a coward in return.

 

“Thank you my love…” he only managed to whisper.

 

“Keep it close to your heart…” she said with a smile. “ _My love_ will protect you from harm.”

 

Galdor couldn’t say anything he just locked her in a tight embrace. Despite all the layers of clothes between them he could feel the warmth of her body against his. Would a day come that she would become his? Would he see the day that no obstacle would remain in their way?

 

“I’ll talk to Thranduil in a proper time during our trip…” he whispered, and he felt Aleth dig her face deeper in his cloak.

***

 

Despite his exhaustion the Elvenking was awake. Staring at the ceiling of the dark bedchamber, he was thinking about tomorrow’s journey to the north. It had begun snowing just hours ago and already the forest floor was hidden under a freezing white blanket. His wife was sleeping beside him with her back towards him. He gazed at her fine form and regretted the weeks ahead that he was going to spend without her, far away from the warmth of her body.

 

He stirred in his place and got closer to her. After his body was completely touching hers he gently circled his arm around her waist.

He felt her move and pull herself closer to him.

 

“I wished we could stay like this forever…” she murmured.

 

“I thought you were sleep!” Thranduil said startled.

 

She didn’t answer but merely turned her head to meet his eyes. Thranduil leaned down to kiss her lightly on her lips.

 

“Can you not stay a while longer…?” she asked turning away from him again.

 

“You know I have to go there…” he sighed in her hair.

 

“I can’t bear the thought of you being in the wild, in the freezing snow.” She whispered.

 

“Shshsh…don’t think about these things…” he said as he kissed the back of her neck. “I’ll be fine.”

 

She sighed yet she remained silent. Long moments passed in a comfortable silence while Thranduil caressed her body and kissed her neck, digging his head in her hair. His hand rested on her stomach for a while.

 

 “I so much want to put a child in there…” he whispered in her ear as he massaged her abdomen.

 

Her heart stirred in her chest from his words and she felt excited like an elfling. Long centuries had passed since their marriage. Countless times she had begged him for a child but he had not complied and so in the end she had given up. But lately she had found a bit of a desire for fatherhood in him which he had concealed all these years.

 

“Then why don’t you?” she urged seductively.

 

A few breathless moments passed for her while he remained silent. But then he sighed.

 

“I can’t do this…” he said. “Not while we’re here.”

 

She groaned and stirred to face him with a frustrated look. Oh how she wanted to give him children with eyes like him. If he would just let her give him the joy!

 

“Thranduil, people have children all the time, despite the darkness surrounding us.” She nagged. “Why can’t we?”

 

Thranduil gazed at her for a long time. Then he smiled and kissed her temple.

 

“Let us get out of here and settle in the stronghold where it’s safe…” he said. “I will give you five elflings!”

 

“FIVE?!!!” she chuckled.

 

“Exactly…” he smiled and leaned to kiss her again.

***

The road towards the north was long and difficult. The snow reached as high as the knees of their horses and the freezing wind blew into their faces. Although being from the Eldar made them somewhat immune to the difficulties of nature, yet still they shivered from cold and their hearts were freezing in their chests. And although it was only midday, the sun was hidden behind the thick clouds.

 

Ardalan had recovered and had insisted on accompanying the king. He was riding in the front as always. Holgailion was behind him and he was engaged in a very serious conversation with Dolorod about wine.

 

Galdor was riding beside Thranduil. They were both silent listening to the two lords arguing about different types of wine; and they chuckled from their strange reasoning to outrank each other.

And in the back another guard was following whom Thranduil now knew was called Niman.

 

Galdor was watching Thranduil attentively, though he was careful not to capture his attention. The king seemed in a particularly good mood that day; chuckling from time to time from the stupid discussion occurring in front of him.

 

“Shall we set camp here?” the king suddenly asked and the lords paused their fuming argument to look back.

 

“There’s a settlement near, my king.” Dolorod said. “We’ll reach there by nightfall. It’s safer there.”

 

Thranduil nodded.

“But let’s take a break for a short while.” He said. “Just a few minutes. The horses need a rest.”

 

“As you wish my king…”

 

They stopped and dismounted as the lords resumed their discussion as if nothing had interrupted them. Thranduil hardly suppressed a groan when his sour feet touched the ground and pain flashed in them. He bent down to rub his poor thighs. The unending hours of riding had made them spasm.

 

“Did the horses need a rest, or did _you_ need a rest, majesty?”

 

Galdor had come up to him. And he was gazing down at his miserable state. During the years after Thranduil’s coronation and specially the last centuries of hardship, the wit and easiness between these close friends had gradually lessened. And it surprised Thranduil to hear Galdor joking with him again. He looked up at the steward who was grinning back at him impishly. It reminded him of long lost years, during which they had been carefree. There was no ranking between them then. They were only best friends. He grinned at his own miserable state along with his steward.  

 

“Your accusation is true, Galdor…” he said still chuckling. “Yet it is not proper for the king to admit his exhaustion. My father would rise from Mandos to reproach me for that!”

 

“You must admit Thranduil…” Galdor chuckled. “You’re getting old.”

 

“Old?!!!” Thranduil burst out to laughter as he straitened himself. “Let me remind you master steward that you’re older than me…and that makes you ancient.”

 

Galdor also burst out in laughter.

“But seriously Thranduil, you’re getting old and you need to produce an heir before your cock wrinkles and you run out of seed.” He said in a low tone to avoid being overheard, still laughing.

 

“Now don’t you insult me…!” Thranduil said faking an insulted expression, though his slight grin betrayed him. “My cock is as beautiful as ever.”

 

“I doubt it…” Galdor teased. “Since you’re so aged. It doesn’t show in your face, but it definitely shows in your leggings.”

 

Thranduil smirked and came a few steps closer.

 

“Why don’t you criticize your own cock Galdor?” he said chuckling. “At least I’ve put mine into good use.”

 

“What do you mean?!” Galdor said, his eyes widening as his argument was turned against him.

 

“You need to get yourself a girl my friend.” Thranduil said. “You’re well past the age of marriage. And your cock has probably turned into a fossil by now.”

 

When no answer came from his friend Thranduil went another step closer. “In fact I insist that you marry soon…” he said, still a teasing tone in his voice. “You do us all a great favor if you stop the rumors.”

 

“What rumors?” Galdor said with raised eyebrows.

 

“They say there’s a reason behind your avoidance of mating my friend.” Thranduil said impishly.

 

Galdor felt his insides fall to the forest floor. How much did Thranduil actually know? His heart was racing inside his chest as he waited for the king to finish his tale.

Thranduil went another step closer, so that their faces were inches away from each other. Then he leaned to whisper in Galdor’s ear. The steward could feel the king’s warm breath against his frozen cheek.

 

“They say you’re in love with _me_ …” Thranduil whispered. “That’s why you don’t look at any one else.”

 

The flood of sensations inside Galdor’s heart was almost overwhelming. The fear of Thranduil’s knowledge was mixed by the guilty relief he found by knowing the king did not know anything. And it was also mixed with the annoyance he found from Thranduil’s words.

 

“Shut up majesty!” he barked, but chuckled all the same.

 

Thranduil also grinned and turned to go to his horse. “But honestly Galdor…” he chuckled. “Find yourself a girl, and that’s an order.”

 

“Yes your majesty…” Galdor sighed as he watched Thranduil pacing away from him. Thranduil seemed in a rarely good mood. And if there was an opportunity to tell him about Aleth, it was then.

Without thinking another second he took a step closer to the king.

 “Thranduil…”

 

“Yes?” the Elvenking turned from his horse to face him.

 

“There’s something I need to tell you…?” Galdor said as he felt his knees starting to tremble. His heart pounded like drum in his chest and he felt boiling blood in his veins.

 

The sudden serious expression on the steward’s face worried Thranduil.

“What is it?” he asked.

 

Galdor squirmed with his words and seemed to be choking which made Thranduil even more concerned. Had he teased his friend too much perhaps; entering subjects he did not have the right to talk to him about? But there had never been secrets between them. He turned completely towards the steward who was standing a few steps away from him trembling.

 

“Tell me, what is it?” Thranduil said with a encouraging smile. “You know you can tell me anything.”

 

Galdor opened his mouth to speak, but if there were any words he was going to get out it was silenced by the whistle in the air and the arrow that hit him right on his chest. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated as always :)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long delay...enjoy :) and don't forget to comment.

The speed of the events unfolding in front of Thranduil was too much even for his great elven senses to follow. He could only watch as Galdor’s eyes widened with shock and the expression on his face turned from pure disbelief to bitter realization as his eyes came to rest on the arrow stinging his chest. His eyes darted up again on a spot behind Thranduil among the trees where the king clearly heard someone running through the snow covered forest.

 

Thranduil turned towards where he had heard the sound and where he knew Galdor’s eyes were scanning. He saw a shadow through the snow and trees, running away. His heart missed a few beats as he turned again towards the steward who was now stumbling backwards on his shaky knees. He couldn’t decide if he should run to the steward or he should chase his attacker. Galdor’s green warrior tunic was already darkening with blood.

 

The king instantly forgot the attacker as he ran for his friend. All he could see was the steward’s withdrawn face and blood soaked figure, all he could hear was his rapid panting. He did not hear Holgailion shouting instructions, or Dolorod running after the assailant. He did not even see when Ardalan and Niman ran to cover him from another likely attack. Thranduil just ran to Galdor like he had never ran before, catching his lifetime friend before he collapsed on the deep snow.

He kneeled, Galdor’s head resting on his knees and his form safely gathered in the king’s arms.

 

“Galdor…” he nearly yelled, panic washing over him. “Galdor!!!”

 

The steward’s eyes were still open but he took in raspy breaths as he choked for air. Thranduil looked up at Ardalan who was standing above him with disbelief.

 

“Get my horse…” he yelled at the guard.

 

But Ardalan was too fright stricken to move. Holgailion’s instructions were clear and he dared not leave the king’s side as the lords and the other guard had left searching for the attacker.

Thranduil was preparing himself to yell at the soldier again when he felt Galdor touching his face. He looked down upon his friend. Galdor’s hands were even colder than the snow around them that was now crimson with warm blood spreading on its surface.

 

“Galdor…” he chocked, instinctive tears running down his face. “Wait…don’t give in.”

 

Galdor gazed at the king’s face. The features he had known since he could remember. Pictures of his life flashed before his eyes that were slowly losing focus.

  _two elflings running through the trees of Greenwood; hiding from the royal guards. They hardly suppressed the sound of their giggles as they hid in the trunk of the tree._

_Two adolescents standing beside the river; one had been wearing a fine circlet that day. Thranduil had turned to him and regarded him with his piercing eyes. “Will you jump to save me, if I were to drown?” he had asked mischievously. “Don’t ever doubt it…” Galdor had said confidently. “Prove it…” the young prince had challenged and in a blink of an eye he had jumped in the roaring river._

_Aleth gazing at him with pure love and lust. He leant down to kiss her rosy lips. Guilt burning him along with desire and passion._

_A swarming battle with orcs; he could still see the prince. He knew Thranduil was injured. He could see that Oropher could not carry him away from the chaos as he was focusing on preventing the foul creatures slaughter his half-conscious son. Galdor had shoved many away with force to reach the prince; elves and orcs. “Galdor…” the prince had whispered faintly. “I’m here Thranduil…” he had said pulling the prince’s numb figure on his shoulder. “You’re safe.”_

 

He touched Thranduil’s face and left a trail of crimson lines on his cheek while trying to wipe the king’s tears. Thranduil’s eyes were wide with panic and fear as he yelled orders at someone Galdor could not see. “Bring my horse!!!” he cried desperately. Then He turned back at him. “Stay with me, Galdor…” the king said in his ear. “Don’t leave me… _please_.”

 

Thranduil could see life gradually leaving Galdor’s eyes. He was panicking and his heart was exploding in his chest. The steward turned his gaze on his face and tried to fix his unfocused eyes on Thranduil’s widened pupils. He caressed the king’s face again tenderly.

“It’s alright princeling…” he whispered in a hardly audible tone. “Be safe…”

His eyes rolled up as his eyelids closed.

But the greatest wave of panic hit Thranduil when Galdor’s head dropped back on his hand and blood flowed from his mouth and then nostrils like river; covering his face unmercifully.

 

“No, no, no…ARDALAN! BRING MY HORSE.” he nearly begged. “Can’t you see he’s dying!”

 

The petrified guard finally found his motion and ran towards the massive stallion and pulled the panicking mount close. Then he ran to the king and helped him settle on the horse with Galdor in front of him. Thranduil broke the arrow in Galdor’s chest but he dared not pull it out, fearing to cause more loss of blood. The steward’s body leaned back on his chest, his head resting heavily on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of his blood, soaking his tunic. He feared Galdor’s faer abandoning him just as the blood was leaving his body.

 

Without any further instruction or even another word or a single gaze towards the guard he kicked his stallion into a gallop and headed for the settlement he knew was at least half a day ahead.

 

***

 

Night had fallen when Thranduil finally reached the settlement with Galdor who was now completely unconscious. Blood ran from his mouth, streaming down his face and neck, and his tunic was now completely dark with warm blood. The residents had seen Thranduil from afar and ran to him when they noticed he was carrying an injured. He was directly leaded to a healing house in the small settlement by the helpful villagers who helped him carry his friend inside.

 

The healing house was a two-story residence with many rooms. Once he carried Galdor inside three healers; two ellons and an elleth ran to him and helped him lie Galdor down on a portable bed. Then they picked the bed up and carried him away as fast as they could.

 

“What has happened?” the elleth asked as they ran through the corridors to reach a room.

 

“He was shot by an arrow on his chest…”Thranduil explained, his voice shaking with anxiety. “I do not know if it was poisoned or not.”

 

The elleth merely nodded as they reached the room. The other two took Galdor inside but when Thranduil wanted to follow, the elleth stopped him by a hand on his chest.

 

“You need to stay out…” she said.

 

“But…”

 

“I cannot let you in.” She said firmly.

 

Thranduil opened his mouth to protest further but he was silenced by another ellon who approached him from behind.

 

“Sire our healers will do all they can…” he said with a deep-toned voice, his dark brown eyes searching Thranduil’s. “You’ve brought your friend to safety. There is nothing more you can do.”

 

His words distracted Thranduil and gave the elleth enough time to close the door in his face. The implication of his sentence sank down in his mind seconds later. He had indeed brought Galdor to safety and indeed there was nothing more he could do. It was as if his mind was not responding anymore. His body was numb and his knees were shaking. Now that he didn’t have a bleeding body in his arms to save the waves of anxiety were hitting his exhausted and abused body.

 

“Are you injured sire…?” the dark ellon asked, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder.

 

He just shook his head though he did not truly comprehend the question.

 

“Come in this room…” the ellon said leading him towards the near chamber. “Son…” he called a young elf in the corridor. “Bring some clean clothes for our friend…”

 

It was a small chamber with a washing basin in a corner and two chairs on the right. There was also a small table on another corner and a mirror on the wall. The ellon lead Thranduil inside. The king complied with no complaint. He was too drained to think, he had suffered through much fear and anxiety.

 

Thranduil collapsed on one of the chairs. His usual iron spine was bent down as if the world had collapsed on his back. His shoulders were dropped along with his head, and his whole body shook uncontrollably.

 

The ellon glanced at him before going out of the room. Thranduil did not remember experiencing such a nervous breakdown. He gazed down at his hands that were resting on his knees. It was as if someone had painted them with crimson dyes. It was Galdor’s blood; the blood of his closest friend, the closest person he had to a brother. He closed his fingers in a tight fist to stop them from trembling but he failed miserably. His heart was bursting out of his chest and his breath came in rapid rasps. His head was spinning and although the room was warm he felt strangely cold.

 

The ellon returned with clean clothes and he placed them on the small table.

 

“There’s a new tunic, I believe it fits you…” he said kindly, and then he pointed at the basin of water. “I’ll leave you to wash yourself and change…you’re covered in blood.”

 

Then he smiled and left again. It took Thranduil long minutes to finally rise and go to the water basin. He looked at himself in the mirror; startled. His once ochre tunic was nearly all dark red in the front. The blood on his clothes was still wet and warm shimmering unmercifully in the candle light. His hands were covered with blood along with his face and hair and shoulder where Galdor’s head had rested. The lump that had grown in his throat and was suffocating him finally burst out. He did not remember weeping since his father’s death; but now here he was sobbing with no restraint while his body shook hysterically. He tried to clean his hands with the piece of cloth in the basin but the frenzy tremble in them made the cloth fall to the floor instead.

 

“Let me help you…”

 

Hearing his sobs the ellon had returned to him. He closed the distance between them with long paces and pushed Thranduil lightly on the chair. He kneeled in front of the weeping king and started unbuttoning his tunic.

 

“F…forgive me…” Thranduil stuttered, trying to take the control back while he wiped his tears away, though he couldn’t suppress his sobs. He only caused more lines of red blood on his face. The ellon pushed away his hand gently.

 

“My job is to take care of people sire…” he said with a sweet smile that caused two little holes on his cheeks. “Let me take care of you…”

 

Thranduil sighed and sat back, letting the ellon undress him. He pulled off the king’s tunic. Then he pulled the basin closer and started washing the blood off his worn out body. They were both quiet and the time to time sound of the water drops falling in the basin was the only noise breaking the silence.

 

Finally after washing away all the blood from Thranduil’s torso, the ellon kneeled in front of him and started wiping away the blood from his still trembling hands.

 

“Were you attacked by orcs?” the ellon asked carefully.

 

“I do not know…” Thranduil said, shaking his head. “I did not see his attacker.”

 

“Well perhaps you should know that the arrow was not an orc arrow…” he said.

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened in disbelief as he felt another wave of terror sweep his heart. If it was not an orc then it was either a man or an elf.

 The ellon finally finished tending to him and sat back on his heels.

 

“There…” he said with a warm smile. “You are all clean now, your majesty…”

 

Thranduil looked up at him with surprise.

“You know me…?” he asked.

 

“We haven’t met personally…” the ellon said as he looked delighted that he had distracted the king somehow. “Though you are so similar to the late king Oropher. It is hard to miss.”

 

“You knew my father then?” Thranduil asked.

 

“Yes, I fought alongside him in a few battles.” He said. “Before I  left the army.”

 

“What is your name…?” The king asked.

 

“Hafez Farzamion, my king…” He said. 

 

“You are Farzam’s son!” Thranduil said, realizing that he was the son of the village leader. “I didn’t know he had a son…”

 

“He doesn’t mention me much…” Hafez said with a bitter smile. “I laid down my weapons and engaged myself with healing. He thinks of it dishonorable.”

 

“I think it’s the most honorable thing one can do…” Thranduil said.

 

Hafez smiled. Thranduil smiled back but then again a deep frown claimed his face.

“Will he die?” he asked directly with a lump in his throat.

 

“We do not know…” Hafez said honestly. “The arrow was poisoned. If you had reached here just a few minutes later he would have been dead by now. But we had the time to take out the poison out to some extent. It is up to his faer to fight his way back from the hands of Mandos.”

 

Thranduil shivered from his words and covered his face with his hands. Hafez watched him for a few seconds in silence.

 

“I see you are very attached to this friend of yours, majesty.” He said. “Who is he, if I might ask?”

 

“He is Galdor…” Thranduil murmured.

 

“The famous king’s trusty…!” the healer said with surprise, raising his eyebrows. “No wonder you are so restless.”

 

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and when Thranduil saw Holgailion entering the chamber he jumped to his feet instinctively.

 

“Holgailion…” he said, closing the distance between them as fast as he could. “Did you find his attacker?”

 

Holgailion looked as exhausted as one could look. He shook his head. “We’re still looking…”

 

A fire rose inside Thranduil’s heart. He felt an anger he had not felt in ages burning his insides to ash.

 

“Four professional men…” he said in a dangerously low tone. “…and you fail to find one.”

 

“We will find him…” Holgailion assured. “I just came to see to your safety majesty…”

 

“I AM safe Holgailion…” Thranduil growled. “Yet my closest advisor is in the next room, _dyeing_.”

 

The king then took another step and stood with his face inches from Holgailion.

“Are you not responsible for the safety of this land?!” he nearly yelled, slaying the lord with his intense glare. “Do explain why someone can easily attack my companion in the bright daylight, in my own land!?” he asked.

 

No answer came from the lord who had dropped his gaze which made Thranduil even angrier.

“Tell me Holgailion!” he roared.

 

The lord looked up at him with eyes full of fear. Never in his long years with Thranduil had he seen the king so angry.

 

“We will find him…” he assured firmly.

 

“You better!” the king spat his words with red eyes and a popped out vein on his forehead.

Then he turned his back on the lord and paced away.

 

Holgailion exchanged a glance with Hafez and bowed at the back of his king. He turned and opened the door to leave.

 

“Holgailion…” Thranduil called without turning towards him. “If you didn’t find his assailant, do not bother returning to me ever again…”

 

It took Holgailion a few seconds to sink in the depth of the threat. In his centuries with the line of Oropher he had learned that they take their words seriously. He said nothing. The lord merely bowed again and left; knowing that he had to return to the king with the assassin.

 

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room before the elleth that had shut the door on Thranduil came inside after knocking.

 

“How is he?” Thranduil asked before letting the healer open her mouth. “Will he live?”

 

“He’s unconscious my lord.” She explained. “We’ve laid him in a room down the corridor. If his body gives in to the poison, his faer would leave for the halls of Mandos before dawn. For now we can only wait and pray for him to wake up.”

 

An iron hand squeezed Thranduil’s heart in his chest. He wanted to run away from that room; he wanted to run through the forest and scream in agony until his voice would give away. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to be strong for the one who had always been strong for him. So he merely nodded at the elleth.

 

The healer came closer and handed him a packet.

“These are his belongings…” she said.

 

Thranduil hesitated before taking the package from her with trembling hands.

 

“Your majesty…” Hafez said when the healer left them. “You can stay in my father’s house…we would be honored to host your stay.”

 

“That’s truly nice of you sire…” The king said. “But I rather stay here…with him.”

 

The ellon looked at him for a few seconds but then he nodded his understanding.

 

 

 

 

The room was only lit by a few candles on the bedside table, but it was enough to light the steward’s face; enough for Thranduil to see that he was still unconscious. Drops of sweat were lingering on his face and he trembled with cold despite the high fever and he often murmured unrecognizable words in his restless sleep. Thranduil had been alone in the room for hours despite the times that the healers had come to change the packages of snow they had gathered to put on Galdor’s burning flesh.

 

Each second felt like a whole day and each hour was an eternity. Thranduil raised from his seat bedside the bed and started pacing the room. His mind was racing. Who had dared to hurt his friend? He was quiet sure that the arrow was not aimed for himself. But he could not think of a reason that anyone would try to harm Galdor. The knock on the door broke his thoughts.

 

The healer elleth entered, this time with a tray of food in her hands.

“I brought you some food sire…” she said with a smile. “You must be starving.”

 

Thranduil shook his head but smiled at her kindness.

 

“Well I’ll put it here…” she said placing the tray on the table. “In case you changed your mind.”

 

“Thank you my lady.”

 

“Can I do anything else for you?” she asked.

 

“Yes…” he said approaching and handing her a letter he had written sometime in the night. “Will you see to it that this letter is sent to the capital?”

 

“Of course…” she said, taking the letter from him. “I’ll send a messenger right away.”

After a slight curtsey she left.

 

Thranduil started to pace the room back and forth again in his restless anxiety. He reached the packet of Galdor’s belongings and finally he found the courage to look inside. At least it would distract him if only for moments.

 

The first thing he pulled out was the torn and blood soaked tunic. The pictures of the day’s events flashed before his eyes and threatened to make him hysteric with panic again. He just threw the tunic in the fire place as if it would turn the memory into ash.

 

The only thing left in the packet was a small dagger and a locket that caught Thranduil’s attention. He pulled the fine necklace out and examined it. He had never seen it before with Galdor and it was too feminine to belong to the steward.

 

He turned the locket in his long delicate fingers and opened it. At first his eyes grew wide by seeing the lock of golden hair inside; but then he smiled. Galdor had never told him about any elleth he liked. It seemed that he had quite a relationship with some unknown girl. And the thing that surprised the king the most was that the elleth, unlike Galdor, was probably a Sindar as it was their custom to give their hair to a loved one. He closed the locket and placed it carefully in his pocket. 

 

“Forgive me…forgive me…Thranduil.”

 

Galdor was murmuring in his sleep and tossing his head to the sides, twisting his body as if he was in pain.

Thranduil went closer to the unconscious form on the bed and leaned down to caress his damp hair out of his face. He kept stroking his face as it seemed to calm the steward’s restlessness a bit. Galdor’s rapid panting turned to deep breaths and he fell into a calmer slumber. Thranduil smiled at his closed eyes though his own eyes were full of tears.

 

“Wake up my friend…” he begged still stroking his face. “There’s still so much to do, so much to say…it’s not the time to die.” He whispered. “You ought to tell me of this unfortunate elleth you’re courting…” he teased through tears streamed from his eyes again. “Please…wake up…” his begging came in mere whispers as he collapsed on the chair and rested his head on the mattress, sobbing. “Please…please…”

 


	29. Chapter 29

Leuthil paced the king’s study back and forth; pressing a piece of parchment in her tied fist. Keeping calm was the hardest task she had found during her long years as the queen of the woodland; where unfortunate events were daily occurrences. She had watched Thranduil long enough to know how to manage the everyday proceedings of the palace. But this one was rather rare, and too disturbing. She feared; for the hand of the king’s life, and she feared; for the princess as well. While the entire palace was speaking about the assault on the king’s steward, Leuthil did not know how much longer she could keep the news from Aleth. Rumors had spread too fast for them to control and now it was too late to stop the people from talking.

 

“Enter…” she called when someone knocked on the door.

 

Miklovand opened the door and entered the semi-dark room. The afternoon light was only enough to let him see the queen’s disturbed expression, her anxiety radiating through the king’s study.

 

“Majesty…” he said; bowing his head.

 

“You know the news?” she said without introduction.

 

“I heard about the assault from a messenger.” He said, emotionless. “I must say it’s a shock.”

 

“He still lives you know…” Leuthil said with a stinging tone.

 

“…though berely.” Miklovand finished, nodding.

 

“Thranduil has sent orders…” she said. “He wants all the patrols to be on guard.”

 

“I’ll see to it…” Miklovand assured.

 

“I do not want any foul event happen while the king is dealing with this problem.” The queen said shaking a threatening finger at him. “I do not want him to worry about the capital too. “

 

“Worry not my lady…” Miklovand said. “I’ll make sure nothing moves in this land until his majesty returns.”

 

“Good…” the queen said turning away towards the window.

 

Sensing his dismissal Miklovand bowed and turned to leave.

 

“Do you have any idea who might have done this…?” the queen asked making him stop.

 

“Was it not an orc?” he asked.

 

“No…” Leuthil whispered. “Thranduil says he’s quite sure the arrow was meant for Galdor…and that the arrow was not a black one.”

 

Miklovand raised his dark eyebrows.

“Who would want to assassinate Galdor?” Miklovand said sarcastically.

 

“I don’t know…” Leuthil said turning towards him with raised eyebrows. “ _You_ tell me.”

 

Miklovand turned completely towards her.

“I’m sorry majesty….” He said with a nearly insulted tone. “I do not understand what you intend to tell me?”

 

The queen hesitated for long moments, gazing at the ellon in front of her. She knew the deep hatred in Miklovand’s heart. Though he had done nothing she could see it in his eye. she could feel how much he hated Galdor, and how much he envied the authority the steward had in the court. Galdor had all the things that Miklovand would have gained if Oropher had still been alive. What the queen was also aware of was that how much more Miklovand hated Thranduil. But despite all this, she did not truly think that he could do such a thing.

 

“Just keep your eyes open…” she finally said; shaking a dismissive hand to him.

 

The door burst open before Miklovand could open it and Aleth stormed inside. Her hair was like a wild jungle of gold around her head. Her aquamarine eyes were wide and her dark eyebrows were tied in a deep frown; making her beautiful face tense. She walked the length of the room to stand face to face with the queen.

 

“Is it true…?” she cried at Leuthil, ignoring Miklovand completely. “Is Galdor hurt?”

 

Leuthil darted her gaze on Miklovand. All they needed right now was a secret love affair to be revealed. Understanding his dismissal Miklovand bowed at the ladies, walked out of the door and closed it behind him.

 

Leuthil turned towards Aleth who was panting hysterically and her expectant gaze burned the queen to ash.

 

“Aleth…” she whispered, trying to calm the princess while she bought some time to think what to tell her.

 

“LEUTHIL!!” Aleth cried like a dragon. “Tell me…is he hurt?”

 

“Yes…” the queen said fast, as if it would lessen the impact of the tragedy. “He’s been hit by an arrow…”

 

Aleth’s huge eyes widened even more with disbelief and shock.

 

“Is he dead?” she whispered with a shaky voice, her breathing coming in heavy rasps.

 

“No…” Leuthil answered immediately. “Thranduil has managed to take him to the closest settlement in time. But he’s still unconscious and he’s not in a good condition.”

 

“Orcs?” the princess murmured, tears filling her eyes.

 

“No… they do not know yet…” the queen said. “But they are sure it was not an orc.”

 

“I’m riding out…” Aleth declared and she aimed for the door without hesitation.

 

“No Aleth…” Leuthil bellowed grabbing her arm firmly. “You will not go anywhere.”

 

“You can’t stop me…” the princess said, struggling to pull herself free.

 

“With all due respect Aleth I _can_!” Leuthil growled, pulling her back with force.

 

“Leuthil…I need to see him…” Aleth nearly begged. “I need to see him one last time.”

 

“I won’t let you out of this palace when all the guards are away looking for a dangerous assailant who has just shot the king’s first hand.” Leuthil yelled. “I will lock you up in your room and bind you to your bed if I have to.”

 

For a few seconds it looked as if the trembling princess would argue further but then Aleth just sighed as she tried to suppress her tears and she collapsed on the nearest chair covering her face. She had surrendered to the queen’s reasoning and she had no strength left in her to fight. Leuthil was right after all. She would just add to Thranduil’s troubles if she did anything reckless. And besides, what more could she do when Thranduil had done all he could to save Galdor, while she did not posses half the power and ability of her king brother?

 

Her state broke Leuthil’s heart though she did not know what to do or say to comfort her. If she had been in Aleth’s shoes she wouldn’t know what she would do. She knew she would lose her mind if anything happened to her love. But now that the princess was under this pressure she had to be strong instead and she knew it. She sat beside her and placed her hand on her shoulder.

 

“Aleth…he’ll be alright.” Leuthil whispered gently pulling the princess into her embrace.

 

She held Aleth for a long time before the princess finally regained her calmness and sat up straight, wiping away her tears.  

 

“I can’t lose him Leuthil…” she whispered. “Our dream cannot end so soon, while it has not begun yet.”

 

“It will not end…” Leuthil said firmly.

 

Aleth sighed and looked up at Leuthil.

“He was going to tell Thranduil…” she whispered bitterly.

 

“That’s a wise thing to do and I’m sure he would have time to tell him after he has recovered.” The queen said smiling; though she did not know if her own words were true, if Galdor would see the light of another day. She took Aleth’s hand in hers and looked up at her seriously. “Galdor will survive this, I’m sure. He has much to return to. And when he does return; end this secret relationship and tell Thranduil about your love for one another. Your dream will begin then.”

 

Aleth nodded and then she leaned her head on Leuthil’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

 

Both of them were silent as the sun gradually set and the room became dark as their own hearts. Neither of them though, saw the ellon who had been listening to their conversation behind the door.

 

***

 

Thranduil roused his head from the bed when he heard a knock on the door. It had been a long restless night, and now it was nearly dawn. His eyes were red and swollen. The dark circles under his eyes showed the exhaustion running in his veins and his widened pupils showed the fear and pressure he was going through.

 

When Holgailion came inside the room he was no better than his king. His clothes were messy and his face screamed of exhaustion. He looked around the room and his eyes rested on the unmoving figure on the bed for a few seconds before he looked at Thranduil. Neither of them felt the necessity of courtesy in such a situation so he did not bow or greet his king in the manner he always did.

 

“We found him…” was all he said in answer to Thranduil’s expectant gaze.

 

The king jumped from his seat and closed the distance between them with speed.

 

“Who is he?” he asked fuming. “Where is he?”

 

“It’s a man from East Bight…” the lord explained. “Lord Farzam gave us permission to lock him up in his house while I call you…”

 

Before he was finished Thranduil had passed him and strode down the stairs and out of the house. Holgailion found a healer to have an eye on Galdor before following his king.

 

The house of the village leader was only a few blocks away and the door was slightly ajar, allowing Thranduil in without the need to knock.

Ardalan was there in the living room of the small house. His muddy boots had ruined the wooden floor but no-one paid a heed. He bowed to the king that passed him without even a glance.

Thranduil caught the sight of Farzam immediately. The village leader approached him with a faint understanding smile.

 

“I’m sorry that we’ve bothered you so much this night…” the king said when the brown haired ellon reached him.

 

“It’s alright my king…” he said as he showed a door. “The man is in this room.”

 

Thranduil nodded but before going into the room Holgailion grabbed his arm.

“He has confessed everything…” he said. “But he claims that he had been paid to do so…”

 

Thranduil said nothing but merely opened the door and stepped in the small room. The chamber was empty except for a couch on a corner and a chair that had clearly been dragged into the middle and was now occupied by a man in his mid 40s. His long hair extended to his shoulders and his bearded face was covered with sweat. Terror was clear in his wide eyes and he darted his uncertain look from Dolorod who was towering above him to the guard standing on his right. When the newcomers entered he looked at them in question.

 

Thranduil scanned the miserable man in front of him. But he did not go any closer and let Holgailion go further instead. He was too disgusted and too heated. He feared that he would finish the man with a swing of his sword from anger and he would ruin all chance of obtaining any information. 

Dolorod bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment of the king and then he turned to the man again.

 

“Explain all that you have said to us for our lord…” he barked.

 

“I said it once….” The man groaned behind his clenched teeth. “How many other pointy ear bastards should I confess to?”

 

The slap that hit him on the face even startled Thranduil for that matter. Dolorod caught him with his strong hands before he could fall from the chair and he shook him hard as if it would make the information sink.

 

“Mind your language mortal!!!” he yelled. “You are standing before the king of Greenwood.”

 

The man’s eyes held no surprise. He turned his head towards Thranduil and smirked; showing his disgusting dirty teeth. “I know who he is!” he hissed. “The _fair king_ they call him…I am happy I didn’t have to kill him, it would been a pity to ruin such beauty.”

 

Dolorod opened his mouth to storm the man in his hands but Thranduil cut him off.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked in a soft tone that even surprised himself. “Where you not paid to assassinate me?”

 

“No…no…” the man said laughing sickly. “They wanted the Silvan steward dead. I did not miss…he choked on the shaft didn’t he?”

 

Thranduil could no longer stand there and watch while the disgusting man talked about Galdor like that. He closed the distance and shoved Dolorod out of the way as he grabbed the man’s collar and pulled him to him fit. “WHO?” he roared. “Who paid you?”

 

“I don’t know?” the man struggled. “I never saw their faces.”

 

“Well I don’t believe you!” the king said throwing the man to the floor as he unshielded the dagger on his side. The man crawled away from him but he was pushed back in Thranduil’s reach by the guard.

 

“Perhaps you will remember who paid you if I cut your hands off…” the king growled.

 

“No…no please…” the man tried to crawl out of his reach again. “I swear I never saw them. They just had a lot of money. They paid enough for my family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives.”

 

Thranduil could hear his own mind work frantically; processing the information. But the rage flowing inside him was too much to suppress. This man, for whatever reason, had hurt his friend; his brother and he would have him revenged. He only needed to wait a few moments longer.

 

The king gracefully kneeled in front of the man who had huddled himself against the wall.

“Tell me who they were…” he said firmly. “And I would spare you an easy death…”

 

The man’s eyes were filled with terror, sweat poured from his face and he shook like a trapped fox.

 

 “I never saw their faces. They always wore hoods.” he said desperately. “They said they wanted to hurt you. They wanted to kill the people around you so that you would suffer…but I know not who they were.”

 

The king faked a gentle smile as he roused to his feet. He stretched his hand towards the man, as if wanting to help him to his feet. The man darted his gaze from Thranduil’s face to his hand doubtfully. Trust gradually fell across his face and he took the king’s hand.

 

“Wrong answer…” Thranduil said as he took the man’s wrist in a blink of an eye and cut off his hand with two strong strikes of the sharp dagger.

 

The gasps he had elicited from the occupants of the room could not be heard above the cries of agony that filled the house. The man writhed as he cried out in pain and disbelief. Blood splashed from where his hand had rested just seconds ago making the others in the room take a step back from the man who was now tossing his body uncontrollably, squirming on the wooden floor like a fish that had fallen out of the river.

 

The lords and the guard in the room dared not breathe. The king’s aggression was beyond measure and shocking for all of them who had never thought Thranduil to be capable of such violence.

 

But the king seemed unmoved by the scene that he himself had created. He grabbed the still crying man from the floor and picked him up from the ground as he held his collar. He shook him with every word he spat out a feet above the wooden floor that was now crimson with warm blood.

“Listen to me…” he yelled with a voice loader than the man’s cries of fear and agony. “Tell me who they were or I will cut off the other one too.”

 

“I swear…” the man cried. “I do not know…they were hooded…there was a girl…and an ellon…I know it from their voices…I never saw…their fucking faces…they want to hurt your family…”

 

The king cried in frustration and threw the man to the ground. He picked up the dagger again and before the man could crawl out of his reach he shoved the knife into his stomach.

The man squirmed and cried again in pain but he was silenced by the dagger now cutting his throat. The flood of blood splashing out of his body painted the king’s tunic and the extent of the violence even made the guard turn in disgust.

 

The man trembled for a long time as life gradually left his violated body. Thranduil stood above him with crimsoned hands and watched as the man’s eyes lost focus and then they were just gazing into nothingness.

 

He could hear the lords in the room inhale deeply. None of them dared to come close to him. His body shook frantically but he felt a sickly relief from the blood he had just shed. He tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Breathing deeply, he tried to cool down. Though he had killed Galdor’s assassin he knew that he had not revenged his friend completely. And another deep fear was taking root in his heart for his other loved ones.

 

Slowly Holgailion dared to approach him and he took out a piece of cloth and handed it to the king. Thranduil accepted it with no words and wiped the blood from his hands and face to some extent.  

 

“Go back to the capital…” he whispered to Holgailion. “Double the guards around my sister and the queen. Nothing moves or I hear about it…”

 

“Yes your majesty…” the lord murmured.

 

Thranduil then turned towards the guard.

“Take this filth out of my sight and throw him in the river.” He ordered firmly. “And clean this mess…I don’t want Farzam’s room ruined like this.”

 

“Yes your majesty…” the guard bowed his head.

 

“Your belongings have been carried to the other room, my king.” Dolorod said carefully. “You can change into clean tunics…”

 

Thranduil nodded before his words were finished and with no words he turned away from them, leaving the room.

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the long delay... Hope you enjoy!!!

He was walking through the massive trees. He had known these trees all his life. They were old, _ancient_ , to be precise. These trees were even older than him. Their trunks showed the many years that they had stood tall in the great forest, and their roots had burst out of the dark soil in some places as if they wanted to reach the free air from the cluster of the underneath.

 

What was strange was how hard was for him to walk through the forest. The land seemed too huge for him, too rough. The roots and the branches were too tall for him to climb and he struggled to keep his pace. His feet were too small to stride through the rough ground and his body was too tiny for the walk through the forest.

 

The smell of the woods was different. It was somewhat like a long passed memory. Despite the age of it that he could feel, he knew that he had seen this very forest in its future days. Yes…this was the Great Greenwood as he remembered it as an elfling…

 

He reached a small clearing. On the edge of it was a young maple. There was another one there; another small elfling, standing with his back on him and his hand on the maple’s trunk as if trying to feel the heart of the tree. He knew the elfling was talking to the tree. Somehow he knew this by heart that this elfling had the ability to talk and understand all of these trees.  

 

The elfling turned towards him when he approached. His golden hair was messy and leaves and soil could be seen tangled in it, as if he had just rolled on the forest floor. Despite the dirt the elfling’s face was beautiful as the sun itself. He scanned him with his aquamarine orbs and then he smiled.

 _Thranduil,_ he thought. But he looked so young. He was only a child.

 

“Finally!” Thranduil said chuckling. His voice was soft and childish, much unlike the deep-toned voice he had known from him in the long years of his adulthood.

 

He reached out his hand to pull the dried leaves out of the prince’s hair. His own hands were also small and fleshy; a child’s hands that had no trace of yielding a sword. Thranduil pulled his head back before he could touch him.

 

“Ai Galdor…” he complained. “You sometimes act like Galion for that matter…”

 

He chuckled. Thranduil was right. Despite being only a few years older he had always felt that the prince was his responsibility. Perhaps it was because of his lowly family that he felt this way. No matter how much the prince treated him like his own brother he could never fully deny the difference. Thranduil was the spoiled princeling and he was his to take care of.

The golden head prince went a step closer and looked at him mischievously.

“Chase me…” he ordered.

 

Before getting any answer he turned and started running with his tiny legs. Galdor obeyed. He ran after him. He knew this game. He knew how much Thranduil adored being chased, and he would comply just to make him happy. In the years after he was chased by girls instead of Galdor, but for now he would run after him.

Thranduil was a Sindar, but growing among the Silvan he had learned to live like a wood-elf. But he could not change the fact that he did not have the built of the Silvan. Galdor could easily catch up with him. But he never did this. As easy as it was for him to catch Thranduil he would always slow down when he could reach the prince; letting him run further away from him.

 

He ran through the endless trees and plant. This time was different. Thranduil ran too fast. He could hear his own heartbeat and he was short from breath. His lungs were sore and his sides hurt. But he kept running. A strange fear was falling upon him. He felt that he was losing Thranduil. He could only hear the prince’s childish laughter; and it was getting away from him; as if fading in the trees. He sped his pace; sweat falling from his brow. His feet no longer carried his weight and in the end he stumbled on a huge root and fell on the forest floor.

 

“Thranduil!” he called after getting up. His eyes scanned the environment around him but he saw nothing but the never-ending trees.

 

“Thranduil!” he called again louder, a deep emptiness fell across his heart, as if it was a void place in his chest where Thranduil had abandoned him. “Where are you?”

 

No answer came. There was nothing. No sound came to him accept the soft breeze dancing through the leaves. He slowly started walking again. Fear rose inside him like a serpent ready to attack. He walked for what seemed like hours to him until he reached a clearing. He walked to its center and looked around but he saw nothing. It was as if Thranduil had vanished into the air.

 

“Galdor…” a deep voice called from behind him.

 

He turned swiftly towards the familiar voice. With a little distance Thranduil was standing on the edge of the clearing in all the glory of his adulthood; tall as a tree with broad shoulders, manifesting the beauty of his fantastic robes. His golden hair was clean and tidy as if he had been tended just then. And he was wearing his crown of red berries. But he had a deadly look in his eyes. Two guards were standing behind him with their hands on the handle of their swords as if they could feel a threat towards their king.

 

Galdor went closer, his heart stirring in his chest by the sight of the monarch. He could feel the heaviness of his own feet and he realized that he too was in the form of his own adulthood now. He stood before Thranduil but for some reason dared not go any closer. Perhaps it was because of the look in the king’s eyes. Waves of disappointment and anger washed over those aquamarine orbs reminding him of the ice on the lake during the heart of winter.

 

“Thranduil…?” he asked with surprise when he saw the two guards leave the king’s side to stand behind himself. “What’s all this?”

 

“Do you not know?” Thranduil asked calmly; though the rage was clear in his emotionless voice.

 

Galdor glanced at the guards perplexed. “No…” he whispered.

 

“You betrayed me…” Thranduil accused angrily, pressing his jaws together.

 

“No…” Galdor said immediately. Fear rose inside him once again but this time it wasn’t the fear for losing Thranduil, it was the fear for losing his trust. “It’s not true…”

 

“You lied to me…” Thranduil said betrayed. His expression was now more miserable than angry. He looked betrayed and broken.

 

“Thranduil that’s not true…” he tried again as he took a step forward, but the king pulled himself away from him as if he was afraid or disgusted. “I never betrayed you…” he said, standing in his place. “I never lied to you…”

 

“I trusted you!” Thranduil cried hysterically. His expression was more like a wild animal as all his body shook in aggravation. “You took advantage of my trust…”

 

Galdor never remembered himself weep, at least not since he had grown up. But he felt his eyes fill with tears as a lump grew in his throat. Thranduil was lost to him. He was slipping away for a reason he did not know. Unable to reason with the king further he merely shook his head, declining the accusations.

 

Thranduil calmed after a few seconds and hid behind his cold mask. He gazed at him with a coldness that could turn Galdor to ice.

 

“You brought this upon yourself…” he said regretfully.

 

Galdor did not get the time to digest his words as one of the guards grabbed his arms from behind and the other placed a thick cord around his neck and pulled hard. The air in his throat was blocked immediately. He tried to reach the rope but his hands were bond. He tried to move away but he was held in place. Tears filled his eyes as his breath came short. His mouth opened instinctively to allow air inside but failed. Why? Why was Thranduil doing this to him? What had he done wrong?

 

He could feel his mind slow down as his knees gave away under him. He fell to the forest floor but the guards still held him by his throat. They continued choking him as he writhed helplessly in their strong hands. He could still see Thranduil. The king was looking down at him. Galdor couldn’t read anything from his face. He could not tell if he was happy, angry or upset…he could not even tell if the king regretted his death.

He wanted to cry out and ask him what had he done wrong but the only sound he could make was a harsh groan. He was losing focus. His movements were slowing down as he could feel his faer living him. His eyes left the king and gazed at the trees. He would have appreciated the beauty of his home if he wasn’t being throttled to death, but it was late now, too late to think of the value of his life.

 

He felt the cord tighten more around his abused throat when he writhed again. His eyes, unfocused as they had become, had noticed something in the woods. A dark figure was standing among the trees. It came closer and came to a halt behind Thranduil. It was an elleth in a black mourning dress with long sleeves and a black tulle on her face, much like the mourning dress the former queen had been wearing on the day they had returned from the last alliance. But he could see her sorrowful visage, and he knew her by heart.

 

“Princess…” he choked, struggling against the thick cord that was taking away his life.

 

Aleth raised her head and looked at him mournfully, tears running down her face. Her despair told him all he needed to know.

 

 “Do not…watch…this… injustice…” was all he could get out of his violated throat as his vision blurred into nothingness. All he could hear then was a far away sound of a childish laughter dancing through the air.

 

With a deep gasp, he opened his dark eyes to the light of the dawn.

 

***

 

It was a particularly beautiful night. The full moon shined upon the misty forest and its exceptional light was reflected by the blanket of snow which was covering the land. A freezing breeze danced across the trees and made every creature of the forest take shelter from that unbearable cold.

 

 A hooded figure walked through the forest with speed. Despite the cold he did not shiver as he was deeply concentrated on not being seen, though there was no being at this part of the forest. He walked for a long time until he reached a clearing and looked around. No sound came from the freezing forest. Flakes of snow fell from branches from time to time but except that there was no other movement. But the ellon waited patiently.

 

“Good evening…” a soft voice came from behind him.

 

He turned towards another hooded form behind him. The slender black haired elleth smiled mischievously when their eyes met and she went a few steps closer and regarded him with her green eyes. “It is a strange place to meet!” she said with a smirk.

 

“Yet it is hard to find…” the ellon said emotionlessly as he turned completely towards her. “You’re man did half a job…” he accused sarcastically.

 

“He hit the steward.” The elleth said with raised eyebrows.

 

“Yes, but he did not manage to kill him…” the ellon said. “Galdor survived.”

 

The elleth huffed out the air angrily and made a white cloud around her face.

 

“Your man has told Thranduil about us but gave no names before the king killed him in his rage.” The ellon said heatedly. “Not only did we not succeed to kill Galdor but we also made the king suspicious.”

 

“Alright, don’t make a fuss…” the elleth said.

 

“I want him dead …” the ellon said from behind clenched teeth.

 

“When Thranduil dies, the strongest pillar of this building will fall…” the elleth said calmly. “Killing the rest of them will be no hard task.”

 

“We need to kill him fast…” the ellon said emotionlessly as if talking about the weather. “We need both of them dead.”

 

“We had a deal…” the elleth reminded. “I said I would help you kill them, and you agreed to make Thranduil suffer first!”

 

The ellon paced a few steps back and forth in the snow.

“We need to act fast. If Thranduil would be given an heir all of this would be in vein…” he said.

 

“Thranduil has no heir…” the elleth smirked.

 

The ellon came to a halt and regarded her with burning eyes; shaking a threatening finger at her.

“Sooner or later the bitch queen will spread her legs and breed…” he said firmly.

 

“What are you afraid of?” the elleth cut him off. “Even if there is an heir you can still kill him and get what you want…”

 

“I wish not to be forced to kill an innocent child!” he said in a soft tone.

 

The elleth rolled her eyes and smirked.

“It’s strange you have a soft spot in that black heart of yours!” she chuckled.

 

“My heart is not black…” he said with raised eyebrows. “I merely want what had to be mine.”

 

She gazed at him for a few seconds. He seemed too restless.

“It seems that you are in a rush.” She said. “I shall grant your wish and have the king killed.”

 

“Have you found a way?” he said hardly suppressing his excitement.

 

“Poison…” she said simply.

 

“I told you a hundred times that his food is tested for anything ill many times before it is brought to him.”  The ellon said irritably. “There is no way to poison him…”

 

“It is not that kind of poison that I’m talking about.” She said calmly as if talking to a brainless child.

 

She chuckled at his perplexed face while she searched her robe under his attentive gaze and finally she pulled a small bottle of a transparent liquid out.

 

“This, my friend, is a poison that is absorbed by the skin…” she explained. “Find something that he touches regularly and soak it with this. The poison will enter his system through his skin and it will kill him. Slowly…oh, so slowly…”

 

The ellon stared at the bottle in her hands as she explained her sick plan with pleasure. He wondered what a powerful poison it was that could even kill through ones skin and he shivered from the thought.

 

“I told you I wanted this to be fast…” he complained.

 

“If the king suddenly dies, all will be suspicious.” she said. “But if he slowly gets sick and fades, everyone will think it’s some kind of grief overcoming him…”

 

The ellon thought for long moments. This elleth outwitted him every time; he liked it in a way. Without further discussion he took the bottle from her and hid it inside his own cloak.

 

“I’ll let you know about the result…” he murmured. “What about Galdor?”

 

“I’ll think of something…” she said.

 

He nodded and then he turned and disappeared in the misty forest.  

 

***

 

After 10 days of constant worry the elven princess finally found ease in hearing the news that her love had survived the deadly assault and was heading back home. Although she knew that Galdor’s presence alongside Thranduil was much better for the safety of her brother she couldn’t hide her joy in hearing the news that the lifetime friends had parted along the way; Galdor returning to the capital by order of the king, and Thranduil continuing the journey towards north. Her heart stirred in her chest by the thought of seeing her love again and she smiled to herself while sitting on a wooden bench in the royal garden that was still covered in snow.

 

The day seemed so nice. The weather was cold but the sun was shining. The winter festival was only a few weeks ahead and Aleth’s mind travelled all the way from the gardens to her royal closet, searching for a nice garment that would best suit her; that would best please Galdor. Never in her long life had she wanted to look beautiful for someone else. It felt strange but good in some way. Perhaps if Thranduil would not return from the stronghold until then she would find a chance to woo the steward into a few dances.

 

“Good morning my lady…”

 

She raised her head only to see Miklovand standing beside the bench, his head down in a slight bow. He raised his head and regarded her with his exceptionally dark eyes. They were like two endless tunnels; like a starless night; like a deep well one could fall inside forever and never reach the end.

 

“Good morning Miklovand…” the princess said with a smile, though she could not find a reason for his presence there.

 

“May I sit with you, my lady…” he asked politely.

 

Aleth regarded him for a few seconds, clearly analyzing the strange situation. It wasn’t an everyday event that Miklovand wanted to talk to her. She hesitated for a long time before she nodded and shifted herself to give him space to sit on the bench beside her.

 

Miklovand placed himself as far as he could from the princess, trying not to make her uncomfortable and she noted this. They were both silent for a long time. Miklovand merely looked down at his boots in silence and gradually Aleth found the sounds and the view of nature more interesting than the quiet ellon beside her and when he finally spoke she found that she had partly forgotten his presence at all.

 

“Lord Galdor is returning…” he said with no introduction. “He’ll be in the capital soon.”

 

“Yes I heard…” Aleth said, surprised from the subject Miklovand had pulled forth.

 

“You seem happy…” Miklovand said, judging her reaction.

 

“Of course I am happy…” she smirked. “He’s been with us my whole life…I was worried for him.”

 

Miklovand looked away from her and huffed out the air in his lungs angrily. Aleth remained silent despite his strange behavior.

 

“How can you love him?” Miklovand suddenly said irritably; shaking his head.

 

“Excuse me?” Aleth said, faking a surprised façade, but her heart was beating like a drum, threatening to burst out of her chest any second. This wasn’t good and she knew it. Of all the people on the face of Arda Miklovand was the last person she wanted to talk to about her love affair.

 

“I know you’re courting him…I overheard your conversation with the queen, not to mention that your happiness from his return makes it quite clear.” Miklovand said sarcastically. “Do not deny it!”

 

“You listened to our conversation?!” Aleth said heatedly.

 

“That doesn’t change the truth Aleth!” Miklovand said even angrier than the princess.

 

Aleth merely looked away and groaned angrily trying to buy some time. Her mind was working frantically. In fact she wasn’t thinking about his rude behavior, she had more important matters in her exploding mind. If Miklovand had heard all of her conversation with Leuthil as he claimed then all was lost. As she thought of a solution out of this disaster she could clearly feel the his constant gaze upon herself, as if he could squeeze the truth out of her. She found the best action in remaining silent.

 

“How can you do this?” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “How can you share with him what we shared?”

 

His words made Aleth turn towards him. Hot blood flushed in her face and made her cheeks crimson. This time her anger defeated her fear.

 

“We shared _nothing_!” she groaned behind clenched teeth.

 

“You loved me once…” he said shaking his head in denial. “Do not deny it…”

 

“I do not deny that I have made some mistakes in my love life before!” Aleth said coldly. She could swear that she heard his heart break.

 

“These eyes of yours that burns with hatred now…” Miklovand said, looking at her with the same sadness and disappointment. “Once looked at me with pure love…”

 

Aleth turned away and found gazing at the trees easier than looking at his betrayed eyes. His words were true. She had indeed shared compassionate feelings with him once. But it had been long ago, shortly after she had reached her majority and now centuries had past from that short time they had spent together. Truly no feelings still remained in her heart for him, and the princess was in fact surprised that Miklovand’s mind still lingered in those times. Although the king’s foster brother had reminded her of his still burning love from time to time during the past centuries, but it had never been so open and bold. She had never thought that Miklovand would be jealous. Again Aleth found remaining silent easier.

 

“How can you love him as you loved me…?” Miklovand asked heatedly.

 

Aleth looked back at him again and burned him with that look that was reserved for the line of Oropher.

“I never loved you the way I love him…” she said as she stood from her place in anger. She needed to go away from there. He reminded her of times she wished not to remember.  “I executed you in my heart when I learned of your hatred towards my brother…when I learned how you sabotaged his entire youth with my father. You brought distance between my loved ones. You are selfish and cruel.  And I know it now that our love was a pure lie.”

 

Miklovand stood too. He was also angry with his dark eyebrows tied in a deep frown. Thranduil had been always a problem between them then. He still was a problem. He was always a problem.

 

“I wonder what will your beloved brother say when he learns about the secret affair of his most trusted man and his little sister…” he said unmercifully.

 

Aleth’s heart missed a few beats but she kept her calm mask. She had learned long ago that as a member of the Oropher’s household she needed to keep her cool exterior in the heat of the moment. The princess went a few steps forward and stood inches from the ellon who was standing tall in front of her.

 

“Is that a threat?!” she whispered, her eyes never leaving Miklovand’s dark orbs. In fact her tone was more threatening than Miklovands real threat.

 

The captain of the guard said nothing. He was lost for words. Although it had sounded like a threat and it was meant to be a threat he could not do this to her. He loved her too much to upset her. She had never forgiven him for his issues with Thranduil; she would never forgive him if he would destroy her secret affair. His blood boiled in his veins by the thought of someone else loving her and her loving him back but he could not upset her.

 

He was saved from answering by the sound of someone approaching. They both turned their heads towards the elleth coming to them. Mistress Liadan, the queen’s personal maid was struggling in the deep snow to reach them.

 

“My lady!” she said in a curtsy when she reached them and then she bowed a head for Miklovand. “My lord…”

 

“What is it Liadan?!” Aleth asked with a smile.

 

“Lord Galdor is here…” the elleth said looking at Miklovand. “His grace would like to see you and all the other councilors in the king’s study.”

 

Aleth could feel hot blood run in her veins and she knew that she might just grow wings on her shoulders. He was back. She hardly suppressed her grin as he heard Miklovand sigh desperately.

He turned towards her and bowed. “Princess…”

 

Then he turned on his hills and strode towards the palace angrily.

 

Aleth followed him with her gaze for some moments until he disappeared through the doors and then she turned towards Liadan who seemed to have more to say.

 

“Is there something else Liadan?” she said with a light mood.

 

“Yes my lady…” the girl said. “Her majesty asked you to remain in your chambers. She would like to see you after the meeting with the council.”

 

Aleth hardly suppressed the urge to laugh. This was Leuthil’s wicked way to tell her that Galdor would meet her afterwards in her chambers. She chuckled at the fact that Leuthil, the queen of Mirkwood that was sometimes as fierce as her husband, could be so mischievous and such a good partner in crime. 

 

“Very well Liadan…I will remain in my chambers.” she smiled and walked past the elleth back to the palace.

 


	31. Chapter 31

Galdor was standing in Thranduil’s study. This room was used by Oropher first and it always smelled like old parchment but he felt that he could smell Thranduil there; the scent of the forest in a rainy spring day, the same scent that had reached his nostrils when first he had opened his eyes from his days of unconsciousness, only to see Thranduil smiling down at him with eyes full of tears; tears of joy he had supposed.  

“Welcome back…” the king had said with a chuckle that was soon suppressed buy the lump in his throat. After Oropher’s death Galdor couldn’t remember seeing Thranduil so overwhelmed with emotions. It made him both sad and happy in a way.

 

The steward sighed as he gazed out of the massive window at the forest. The weak heat of the winter sun couldn’t melt the thick cover of snow and the weather suggested that even more snowy days are in the way. Somehow it reflected the ice in his heart. Since he had awoken from his deathbed he had felt like this, as if a freezing snow was crawling in his chest and it would never see another spring. He sighed again and turned towards the door just in time to see the queen enter.

 

Leuthil smiled widely when their eyes met and went towards him with long paces. Galdor bowed his head and kissed her hand. But when he released her hand, the queen chuckled and hugged him brieflyin a friendly embrace.

 

“You scared us master steward!” she said after letting him go.

 

“It’s over now my lady…” Galdor said as he blushed. “I’m fine now.”

 

The knock on the door interrupted them. The door opened and the council members entered one by one, each one greeting Galdor in their own way.

Miklovand was the last to enter and he closed the door behind him with a grumpy face. All of them stood there with expectant looks on their faces.

Galdor cleared his throat.

 

“Thank you all for coming.” He started. “There are many things that need to be done. The king wants a meeting with the village leaders after the winter festival but we need to start preparing for the move starting tomorrow. It is a huge work and I expect everyone to take their share of the burden. Your personal responsibilities for the move will be given to you in a few hours. They are mostly orders for preparing the palace and the villages to move. The jobs are distributed fairly and it is expected of you to take care of it with the care and caution the king desires.”

 

Everyone noted the change in Galdor’s tone. He wasn’t asking, he was _ordering_ though in a polite way. Everyone knew Galdor’s high rank in the council, given to him by the king and not his own nobility, but that rank did not bring him this firm authority to order the members of the council who were some much older than him.

 

The steward turned to Miklovand.

“Lord Miklovand, I want the guards doubled on our borders…” he said. “One shouldn’t be able to easily enter the borders of the Elvenking and endanger the lives of his subjects. I want to know of any strange movement.”

 

Miklovand raised his eyebrows and licked his lips before protesting.

“My apologies, my lord…” He said in an offensive tone. “But I merely get orders from the king himself.”

 

Meaningful looks were exchanged among the councilors as Galdor gazed at Miklovand coldly. All knew of Miklovand and Galdor’s rough relationship. But then the steward smiled while he pulled out a sealed piece of parchment out of his traveling suits. All could see the kings seal; the shape of a dear among the trees. Galdor handed the parchment to the queen.

 

“Your majesty…” he said still smiling. “If you would…”

 

Leuthil glanced at him with surprise and broke the seal and started reading her eyes going back and forth on the lines of her husband’s perfect handwriting.  

 

_In the name of the Valar_

_And_

_Oropher the first of his name_

_As the king of the Great Greenwood it is my duty to ensure the safety and wellbeing of this beloved realm. Therefore I hereby assign my loyal hand and councilor, Lord Galdor Rohonavion as the protector of the realm and my replacement. In case of my absence from the capital or disability in taking decisions, I give him full authority to decide and act in my stead. If I am ever to depart for the halls of Mandos, he is to protect my heir and my realm until my rightful successor comes of age.  In case that I will not be blessed by an heir, he is to protect my realm and rule alongside my sister, Aleth Oropheriel and my queen Leuthil Alheruiel._

_The consequences of the full authority I give Galdor Rohonavion should be considered by all my subjects and members of my court. His order is my order; his word is my word; and his breath is my breath. It should be reminded that disobeying him is disobeying the king of the Great Greenwood and it is looked upon as treason._

_May the Valar bless this order in the means of prosper and wellbeing of our beloved realm._

_Thranduil Oropherion_

_King of the Great Greenwood_

 

 

 

 

It took the people in the room a few moments to sink in the information. Again meaningful looks were exchanged but all remained silent. The queen folded the parchment and handed it back to Galdor with a meaningful smile.

 

“Thank you my lady…” Galdor said as he took the parchment from her and placed it back in his robes securely.

 

Still everyone remained silent. The impact of Thranduil’s decision had startled them. Never in the history of Greenwood had a ruler given his full authority to another, not to mention one from a non-noble background. But Galdor kept his cool exterior.

 

“The king will stay in the stronghold for a while and he expects us to start the preparations for the move and the winter festivals.” He explained.

 

“Will the king not return for the festival…?” Alheru asked grouchily.

 

“I do not know my lord.” Galdor said politely. “It depends on the amount of work in the stronghold. His majesty definitely wants the realm to be moved within 18 months, and that’s a lot of work. ”

 

“These people are Silvan my lord, just like me and you…” Alheru said firmly. “They care about their traditions. While the king is doing such a revolutionary thing as to move, he should at least try to keep the public opinion up with attending these festivals.”

 

“I am sure his majesty is well aware of that.” Galdor said calmly. “But I will convey your concern to him with the next letter I’ll send him.”

 

Alheru seemed satisfied as he nodded.

 

“That’s it for now…” Galdor said dismissing them with a smile.

 

In silence the councilors bowed and curtsied to the queen and walked out of the door. Clearly all of them were still under the shock of the news. Galdor knew well that the talks and gossips would soon start. He sighed and turned towards the queen who still had a meaningful smile on her face.

 

“My congratulations Galdor…” she said chuckling.

 

“Thank you my lady…” Galdor said with a grim expression despite the queen’s smile.

 

“It is a great burden to carry…” she said when she saw his mood. “Yet I am sure you deserve it.”

 

“I will try my best to be worthy of it…” Galdor said, smiling. Then he took out another sealed parchment from his robes and handed it to the queen. When he saw her questioning look he explained.

 

“His majesty asked me to give this letter to you…”

 

Leuthil smiled and blushed like an elfling as she took the letter from him. Then she smiled impishly and went a few steps closer, close enough to whisper in the steward’s ear.

 

“The princess is in her chambers…” she said mischievously. “Do not keep her waiting longer…”

 

Galdor chuckled at her tone and nodded. It was amazing for him how Lady Leuthil, the queen of the woodland realm who was at times even scarier than her husband, could be so playful on such matters.

 

“Yes your majesty…” he chuckled.

 

 

 

Outside the king’s study in the corridor the councilors were walking in a group as they chatted about the recent events.

 

“It is strange…” Lady Meriloth said. “It is clear that the people do not like Lord Galdor yet the king still gives him so much credit…”

 

“His assailant was a man my lady…” Alheru defended his son in law’s decision. “I do not believe that the people have any problem with the lord personally…”

 

“But giving him such an authority is wrong…” the lady argued further. “Never in our history has a king done this!”

 

“I am sure the king has good reasons for this.” Daitrid said with a serious frown.

 

“I hope it is as you say my lord…” Meriloth said with a smirk.

 

“This authority is merely given to him because he is the king’s old friend…” Miklovand suddenly said loudly and made them come to a surprised halt. “It’s a shame really that this court should be running by such lowly people instead of the nobles of king Oropher’s time.”

 

Alheru frowned but Daitrid turned completely towards the captain of the guard.

“He has shown great quality through the years Miklovand…” he said firmly. “The king had made it clear that he values loyalty and quality in his court; not nobility…”

 

“Oh for Valar’s sake my lord…” Miklovand smirked angrily as he shook his hand in the air; forgetting all courtesy. “He was no more than a servant when he befriended Thranduil…”

 

Daitrid opened his mouth to argue further but he shut it closed when his eyes darted on someone behind Miklovand. Following his gaze the captain of the guard also turned only to see Galdor standing behind him with his arms folded on his chest.

 

Before this he never cared if Galdor had heard his insults but now that he had such an influence in the court he could easily remove him from all his posts and Miklovand knew Thranduil well enough that he would support Galdor’s decision. Not only the king would not object to his removal but he would also be very delighted. He might even give Galdor a reward for getting rid of him. That thought made all the color drift from Miklovand’s face. He expected to see some anger and perhaps a very heated argument from Galdor, but the steward remained calm and only gazed at him with emotionless eyes.

 

Everyone was waiting to see Galdor’s reaction to the words he had just heard. The steward’s background was not hidden from anyone. He was one of the illiterate sons of a very crowded and poor family leaving in one of the secluded villages of the Silvan. Once He had saved Thranduil from drowning in the river when they were mere elflings, Thranduil had taken him away from his miserable life to the palace with him. The prince had taught him to read and write and soon they would spend their nights discussing the heavy literature of their kin until the sun would rise. Thranduil had taught him how to yield a sword and stretch a bow. He had given him a comfortable home and a new family to hold on to. He had given Galdor a new life and it was not hidden from him or anyone else. He had not forgotten his roots. But it had been years since he had been confronted with his past like this.

 

“You speak insolently, Miklovand…” Galdor said calmly after a long time. “…yet truly. I was not more than a servant boy when I was graced to befriend my king…I was even poorer than a servant then.”

 

Then he slowly went closer. He thought he felt Miklovand suppress his breath but he could not say for sure. He stood face to face with Miklovand looking straight in those dark orbs.

 

“But do tell me…” he said firmly burning the captain of the guard with his glare. “Are we not all servants of our king…?”

 

A deep silence fell upon the crowd. Miklovand said nothing. Galdor kept his gaze for a few moments before nodding at the rest of them and striding in the opposite direction.

 

Despite his cool exterior his mind was racing as was his heart. He felt feverish on the surface yet freezing in the core. He had been right. He knew this would happen. He had warned Thranduil a thousand times. Galdor cursed his friend for his impossible stubbornness.

 

_*** Standing in the dim room where he had awakened a week ago he could not take his eyes off the king’s cursive handwriting. The meaning the words conveyed were sinking in his mind like the sands of the sea after a stormy night. He knew Thranduil was watching him, judging every single reaction. And he knew the king wanted a response but the steward’s mind was not helping him. This order was more than he could take. This burden was more than he could carry._

_“You don’t seem flattered.” Thranduil finally said, though his tone was not disappointed._

_Galdor raised his head and looked at his king. The faint light of the candles had lit half of Thranduil’s face, enough to show Galdor that his friend looked much better from the time the steward had gained consciousness. Thranduil’s eyes were exhausted then, dark circles were around his eyes showing days of distress, but now he looked much better. He was beautiful again, with those sharp eyes that could melt the receiver to the ground._

_“I… am… honored…” he stuttered. But still he could not fake a happy face. He could not fool Thranduil._

_“And yet…?” Thranduil asked expectantly, rising one dark eyebrow._

_Galdor hesitated. How could he say what he needed to say? He looked away from those aquamarine eyes. Those daggers in Thranduil’s face did not let him think properly._

_“You send me to my death with this order…” he whispered, and dropped his head shamefully. He felt like a real coward. He was indeed deeply honored by the confidence Thranduil had in him but he could not shake the disturbing feeling in his heart. All those years he had fought the jealousy of the others. He had endured their insults and mockeries for his poor roots. He had used them as a booster to develop and be worthy of Thranduil’s trust. But now…he was exhausted. He had no strength left in him to prove his worth to the others further._

_Thranduil remained silent for a long while, merely gazing at the figure in front of him. Then he came closer and placed both of his hands on Galdor’s shoulders, but the steward kept his head and gaze down._

_“Look at me…” the king ordered firmly._

_He looked up in those eyes that could burn a land to dust. He wondered if Thranduil knew the fear he could place in the heart of others._

_“Do not fret…and do not fear” he said. “Your enemy is my enemy…”_

_Then he took the parchment from Galdor’s hand and folded it. He sealed it with the royal seal and handed it back to his steward._

_“Go back to the capital and let your wounds heal...” the king said. “Meanwhile, keep your eyes open. The person who has ordered your assassination is somewhere among us. If you found him, you have the permission to punish him as you will.”_

_Galdor merely nodded._

_“When I return to the capital…” Thranduil smiled at his friend’s grumpy mood. “I wish to see the protector of my realm at his best health.” ***_

 

 

 

Aleth had been pacing her chamber back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. Her heart was beating somewhere in her throat. Her stomach stirred as if a snake had been curled up inside her and now it was awakened.

A strange concern was spreading its roots inside her while she suddenly feared that perhaps Galdor would not come to see her. But then there was a knock on the door.

 

“Enter…” she said, and her heart missed a few beats when Galdor opened the door and came in, closing and locking it behind him.

 

He turned towards her after he made sure the door was securely locked. She drank the sight of him with suppressed breath. He looked his normal self. There was no sign of the attack visible on him; at least not with all those clothes on. But his face was tired though he smiled. The steward grinned after the long moments he watched her and lowered his head for the princess.

 

“My lady…” he whispered.

 

He hadn’t fully lifted his head that Aleth ran to him like an elfing and threw herself into his open embrace. His strong arms held her tight and pressed her to his firm chest. He dug his face in her golden hair and inhaled her scent as if taking his last breath. Aleth couldn’t believe that the warm body against hers was real; that his breath against her hair was not a dream. The lump in her throat that was stored there for ages broke and she sobbed, burying her face in his chest.

 

“Aleth…” he whispered as he pushed her back gently to cup her face. “Why are you crying?”

 

His words made her cry even harder. “I…I was…scared…” she sobbed as she dropped her gaze. “I thought I might lose you…”

 

“Shshsh…” he silenced her while he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “I’m here now. Don’t cry anymore…my dove, my love.”

 

Her aquamarine eyes, now swollen with tears, searched his. She injected all the feelings of the world into him, love, pain and longing and in a second Galdor could no longer stand the distance just as she could not. He leaned and captured her lips in a passionate kiss as his hand gripped her silken hair to bring her face closer. Their tongues were soon caught in a duel of passion and love and they were both lost to the sensations washing over them.

 

As he ravished her mouth he leaned down and picked her up in his arms as if lifting a feather. Their kiss was broken for a moment until Galdor laid her on her bed and pulled himself up, hovering above her and then he claimed her lips again. She closed her eyes and let the pleasure take her. They had kissed before, many times in the long years of their secret affair, but never before had Galdor been so eager towards her. These last events had proved to both of them that how easily they could lose one another.

 

She circled her arms around his neck and moaned in his mouth when his hand traveled under her skirt and caressed her thighs gently. The soft milky skin twitched under his touch and she whimpered slightly from his advances. He broke the kiss for a moment, just to look at her. She was so beautiful, so pure, so painfully innocent. If she was another elleth he would have never waited this long…he would have given up years ago. But she was different…she had always been different…

 

Aleth used the slight distance to reach the buttons of his tunic. His eyes grew wide when he realized she was trying to open them and he tried to escape out of her reach. Although he was having a secret affair with the king’s sister behind his back, but he still didn’t dare to advance further.

 

“Relax…” she chuckled. “I just want to see your injury…”

 

He chuckled too as he blushed and left her to struggle with the first four buttons and she pushed the folds of his tunic slightly apart to reveal his bare chest and the still healing hole resting just below his collarbone. With her long delicate fingers she brushed the surface of the scar. Then she lifted herself and brought her face closer to his chest. He could feel her hot breath on his skin. Her shimmering hair acted as a veil and he could no longer see what she was doing until he felt her lips and slick tongue on the injury as she kissed and licked him there. He could only close his eyes and bite his lips to suppress his moans. He had to confess that her act aroused him dangerously.

 

“Aleth…” he gasped. “If you don’t stop this, I will lose control any second…”

 

At first it seemed that she did not hear him but slowly she stopped her attention and collapsed back on her bed.

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” she said, chuckling.

 

He sighed and rested his head on her chest and simply relaxed in her arms. He could not think of another place in the world to find such solace. After days and days of travelling in the rough and violent wild, she was his shelter; she would remind her that there is a place to come back to. He cursed himself for being such a coward. He had promised her to talk to Thranduil and make things right for their marriage; and yet here he was again, a coward who cannot face his issues.

 

“I don’t deserve you…” he whispered.

 

“Shshsh…” she caressed his hair and silenced him.

 

They were both silent for a long time until night fell across the chamber and they both drifted into a deep slumber.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome and appreciated as always...!


	32. Chapter 32

My dearest;

My Leuthil;

These past few days were a true nightmare, and I miss you already. The days are long and the nights are cold without you here by my side. I only endure with the hope that this stronghold will be our refuge to a safer residence. I will take you to a safer home.

Whist I am away, keep your eyes open. Do not go out of the palace unprotected. On second thought, do not go out of the palace at all. The betrayer that had ordered Galdor’s assassination is definitely still there. We have a traitor among us that can endanger all my loved ones; Galdor, Aleth, and most importantly, you. Do not fear, but be careful.

 

I had a dream last night, while we were sleeping our last night in the settlement. It was genuinely euphoric. We were walking in the woods; just me and you. The rays of the sun reached us through the leaves, and it was so warm and pleasant. The forest was not haunted like it is now; it was not sick. It was young and beautiful. I did not fear walking through it as I normally do these days. I felt safe…at home. It was my forest as I remember it in its good days.

Anyhow; we were walking through the trees, and your hand was securely in mine. You looked so beautiful. I could not take my eyes off you. You were wearing the same dark blue garment you wore the night you first captivated my heart. Your hair hung in wild curls to your waist and danced around your body with every step you took. Your face was lit with happiness and your eyes glittered with love when you looked at me.

 

Then I heard a childish laughter just as I caught a glimpse of a very young elfling running past us; a girl. She was very small, perhaps only to my knees, her hair was dark and her eyes were azure; just like you. And when she giggled, two small holes appeared on her pale cheeks.

I was caught in the sight of the little girl before me when I felt your grip on my arm. I looked back at your smiling face. You grinned at my confusion.

“Our daughter…” was all you said before I woke up.

 

I love you…

Your Thranduil

 

 

 

My love;

 

Galdor arrived safely. Although some of your council members were not satisfied with your rebellious order but nothing special happened and no one opposed officially.

Though I am really busy with the move and the preparations for the winter festival I constantly feel your absence. This palace, these clothes, these jewels…they mean nothing without you. Life is where _you_ breathe. If you wish for the new stronghold to be our home, I will follow you there. I will follow you to the end of the world, because there, is where your heart beats.

 

Your dream made me weep. So long I have desired a child from you. So long I have longed to hold the offspring of our love. And so long you have denied me the joy. I want to bring you the pleasure of fatherhood. I want to give you children with eyes like yours. I know what you fear. You fear the darkness around us. You fear to raise a child in such uncertainty. But do not fret my love. The fame of our unbreakable love has reached all ears in Middle-Earth throughout our years together. How can such a love not be more powerful than this foul darkness? Our love will shelter our mutual beloved, I promise you that.

 

Kisses

Your Queen

Leuthil

 

 

 

 

My Queen;

 

It seems like thousands of years but only a week has passed. You should see the stronghold. What Hazar and Telov have done here is magnificent. They have literally turned my thoughts to reality. You have not seen the splendor of Menegroth. Though it is not comparable to the glory of that ancient fortress but it somehow resembles it. It takes me back to very old memories.

 

I believe you will like this new home. Though it is under the ground, you do not feel it. The walls are carved so that the rays of the sun reach us in the morning and the stars light the fortress in the night. Rivers flow inside it and even trees have grown in there. I cannot wait to bring you here. I want you to believe me when I say that my stronghold is not a nasty cave.

 

Do not deny any expenses for the winter festivals. This feast is important to the Silvan and I wish for them to enjoy it. Open up my store of Dorwinion wine and let my people drink their minds off.

I still do not know if I can be back for the feast. The roads are covered with snow and travelling is hard. But I will try my best to be there.

 

By the way, I meant to ask if you suspect anyone among us that might be the one who has paid for Galdor’s head. If you think of anyone tell Galdor but do not write it in a letter, it’s dangerous.

Be careful as always and remember that you are my most precious treasure. I will not survive a day without you.

 

Your Thranduil

 

 

 

Thranduil;

 

Do not concern yourself with the winter festival. Aleth, Galdor and I are taking care of everything. And of course I know your storage of Dorwinion will suffice to cause the entire realm a horrible hangover. I will make sure we have a day of public holiday afterwards!

 

My father keeps nagging to Galdor and me about your absence. He believes your presence is necessary for the festival to keep the public opinion up, but I think he is just fussing about the mass of work left on my shoulders. Galdor literally hides away from him to avoid any encounter in the corridors. It is funny to watch really, my father looks like a grumpy old lion these days.

 

I read your description about the stronghold. If I know you, I know that you never do half a job. I am sure that you have made the fortress perfect. I cannot wait to see it with my own eyes.

It is now two weeks without you by my side. Do not mock me but I hug your tunic and I smell it for hours so that I might find rest in the night. Please, finish your work and return to me soon. I want to hold you, smell you, kiss you…I need to feel your strong arms around me. I am lost without you…I am nothing.

 

Love you

Leuthil

 

 

 

 

My love;

 

Yes, Galdor told me about your lord father’s concern and I agree with him; though I do not know if I can reach there in time for the feast. Of course lord Alheru never trusted me with your wellbeing. After all these years I know he still does not approve me as a good match for you, no matter how much I try. He reminds me of my own father in a way, no matter how much effort I put he was never satisfied. But in the end I truly love your grumpy nagging father, just as I did love my own father even though he made me feel like a true disappointment. Send my love and respect to your father and tell him that I will do my best to please him even though I know it’s in vein!

 

Distances, as bad as they are, have an advantage. I will get confessions from you of how much you love me, and it is always pleasurable as the first time. I still remember the first time I kissed you. How you clenched my tunic not to fall, how you moaned from pleasure in my mouth. It is always fresh in my mind and after all these years my love for you has only intensified further.

This distance will end soon. And when I return we have much to do in the solitude of our chamber.

 

Your Thranduil

 

 

 

Thranduil;

 

The winter festival is only a week later and there is a lot to do. I truly wished you were here but do not worry about it. Nothing bad will happen because of your absence. Everything will be as usual. Your people will drink to their limits and they will dance until anor rises and then they will sleep the entire day afterwards; and I’m pretty sure no-one will mind your absence.

 

I must confess that I never knew _craving_ until you came to my life. I crave for your body against mine. I need your passionate kisses and your seductive hands. I hunger for you, and I am starving.

 

I merely wish that you return to me soon.

 

Leuthil

 


	33. Chapter 33

 

“Put that chandelier up, _now_!!!” Leuthil bellowed for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon.

 

She looked like anything except the woodland queen. Her hair was dirty and tangled. Her dress looked more like labors and her hands were dusty with broken fingernails.

 

She had been blowing her mind off with the winter festival and now that there were only a few hours left until the feast the Greenwood royal palace looked more like the battle field of the last alliance. The worst thing was that it seemed that everyone had lost their capability to achieve even the simplest tasks such as putting the trays of food on the tables or opening the wine bottles. The palace was a chaos and the courtyard looked like the dooms day itself. Seeing her father approaching her in this mess was a relief though.

 

“Ada…” she smiled at the lord who was trying to trail blaze his way through the servants who were running around. Alheru kissed his daughter’s cheek when he reached her.

 

“You’re a bit early for the feast father!” she said.

 

“I’m not here for the feast dearest!” the lord said with raised eyebrows. “I came to see if you need anything.”

 

“Yes I do!” Leuthil said desperately. “Find Miklovand and ask him if he has made sure of the security.”

 

“I’ve already done that…” her father said with pride. “I also threatened him that if any foul thing happens this night I would send his head for Thranduil!”

 

“That will be a very nice gift to your son in law, Thranduil would be delighted I can say!” Leuthil teased and made Alheru chuckle as well. But then the lord’s expression turned grim and he frowned.

 

“You look terrible!” he stated, scanning his daughter head to toe.

 

“Yes I know father!” Leuthil said rolling her eyes. “Thank you for reminding.”

 

“You need to bathe!” Alheru suggested as if she was still an elfling and needed guidance in personal hygiene.

 

“I will ada…” she sighed. “I just need to finish everything before the feast.”

 

“Thranduil is very _thoughtful_ really!” the lord said sarcastically. “He leaves you alone to do all the work he has to do himself!”

 

“Father, he’s busy with the stronghold…” Leuthil argued.

 

“The festivals are also his responsibility!” Alheru said angrily. “Not only does he put his tasks on you but he doesn’t even show up!”

 

Leuthil merely sighed hoping that her father would drop the subject. But the lord seemed to have no head to stop his argument soon.

 

“I have tried so many times to make him understand that these festivals are important for the Silvan.” He growled. “But he just refuses to see…he’s so busy with that stronghold of his that he doesn’t care about his people…well after all he is a Sindar, he doesn’t care about these people by heart anyway…”

 

“Father!” Leuthil said with a loud and firm voice as she turned towards Alheru angrily. “Please, do not judge him!”

 

Her tone made him silent. She took a few steps closer so that no one could hear their conversation. She burned her father with her glare as she started her heated speech.

“All he has ever done since he became king has been for these people, the Silvan. He might be a Sindar but he has grown among the Silvan; he never considered himself different.” She said from behind clenched teeth. “He is preparing this stronghold to take our people to safety; to avoid the darkness growing around us.”

 

Alheru was startled to see trickles of tears in his daughter’s angry eyes as she continued heatedly.

“Father, you only see his surface, the calm exterior; the cool mask he wears. I see what madness he’s going through because of his people.” She said. “He doesn’t eat, he drinks too much wine, he hardly sleeps…he’s broken from the decision he had to make, and it’s all because of _these people_.”

 

She then took in a deep breath to calm down and regarded her father with disappointment.

“Believe me father; he cares about the Silvan more than you know…” she said with a voice that was still shaking from anger. “…don’t judge him so harshly.”

 

The queen crossed her arms and turned away from her father. Alheru suddenly felt so small and stupid comparing to her. She was after all right. He usually judged Thranduil harshly. Perhaps it was because he had watched him grow from Oropher’s brat into a worthy king. He had expectations from Thranduil just as a father would have expectations from a son. And he wanted to protect him from the wrath of his own people. Besides, he had given him the most valuable treasure he had owned and he wanted Thranduil to be worthy of it. It was too much expectation sometimes. He touched Leuthil’s shoulder to make her turn towards him.

 

“I don’t judge him…” he whispered apologetically when her disappointed eyes met his. “I love Thranduil as much as my own son…I just don’t want him to make mistakes.”

 

“Then show it to him!” Leuthil said firmly. “Not by harassing him like his own father used to. Be a father he never had. Believe me he needs a paternal hand on his shoulder…specially now.” 

 

Alheru sighed. He himself was a strict father. But the Valar had blessed him with a daughter. He never knew how he would have behaved if he had a son. But he remembered the many times he had argued with Oropher about his harshness towards Thranduil, even when the young one was a mere elfling. Thranduil was never an easy child. He was hot-headed, stubborn and too smart in his mischief; but instead of trying to befriend his wicked son Oropher only made a wall between them. Perhaps he had to act differently. Perhaps he could in fact help or at least ease the pain of his late friend’s beloved son.

 

***

 

At the royal table the queen sat beside the empty chair of her husband. Miraculously she had managed to bathe and tidy herself; of course with the help of many maids. She was wearing a silver dress as was the costume of the winter festival. Her hair had been braided into a single braid behind her and a silver circlet rested on her head. She was ageless and beautiful as ever but a tingle of stress was visible in her blue eyes.

 

On her left sat Aleth and on her right Galdor was seated after the king’s chair. The dinner had been served and the guests seemed satisfied as they were enjoying the friendly conversations. Soon the musicians would start their tunes and everyone would dance. But there was still a difficult task left to be done. The steward leaned towards her after a while.

 

“My lady, do you have a speech ready?” he asked.

 

Leuthil swallowed and looked at him doubtfully.

“Yes…” she said. “Though I wished Thranduil would just walk through the door and save me…”

 

Galdor chuckled and his eyes darted on Aleth. With her white garment and the silver circlet on her brow she looked like an angel. The steward smiled at her secretly before he looked back at the queen.

 

“Do not overwhelm yourself my lady, just a few words would suffice…” he encouraged. “I believe you can start…”

 

Leuthil nodded and sat on the edge of her chair, taking deep breaths. Just as she found the courage to start her speech she noted a gate guard running to Galdor who had stood to make the courtyard silent for the queen to speak. The guard reached the royal table and bowed at the queen and then faced them both as if he could not decide whom he should address.

 

“The king is here…” he finally managed, addressing neither of them. “His majesty went to change his clothing and return.”

 

Leuthil felt her heart stir in her chest and blood flushed to her face and she could not suppress a wide relieved grin. Galdor dismissed the guard with a nod and turned to the queen.

 

“You’re saved my lady!” he teased and made both Aleth and Leuthil giggle. They were silenced by the guard at the door almost immediately.

 

“King Thranduil…” he announced aloud.

 

The guests at the huge tables placed in the courtyard stood in respect of their king as Thranduil entered with Ardalan and some other guard following him. Leuthil marveled in the fact that he had actually been able to change into the most beautiful dark-blue robes matching his white leggings. His hair was clean and tidy as was his face. The only trace of the long travel was his cold flushed face. He paced the distance to the royal table and stood behind his chair as he addressed his subjects with a casual smile.

 

“Pardon my delay my friends…” he said aloud, and with a confidence Leuthil knew she could never posses. “It is a heavy winter and it seems that even the king of the woodland realm can get stuck in snow after all.”

 

His light mood and words made the already merry elves laugh out. Leuthil found herself envying his causality and easiness in front of all these people. The king also chuckled along with his fellow Silvan before he continued.

 

“Eat and drink from the pure food and the perfect wine our beloved forest has to offer.” He said. Then he reached for a glass of wine which happened to be Leuthil’s and raised it. “Here’s to the beautiful winter the Valar has granted us and may it be followed by a prosperous and vigorous spring afterwards.”

 

The elves in the courtyard raised their goblets and applaud whistling and clapping merrily. Soon everyone was busy eating and chatting with friends again and the attention was taken away from the royal table.

 

Thranduil turned first towards Leuthil who was looking at him with wide eyes. He chuckled at her startled face.

 

“How did you get here?” she said as if she had just seen a dead coming back to life. “I thought you won’t come…”

 

“Well I travelled the distance of 5 days in 3…” Thranduil said cheerfully. Then he pointed at the goblet in his hand. “Was this yours?”

 

Leuthil nodded which made Thranduil drink the whole glass in one attempt. “We rode all day and night…” he continued. “The horses collapsed at the gate!”

 

He raised his head and regarded Galdor as the steward approached him.

“You look better than last I left you Galdor!” he said with a warm smile.

 

“Thank you majesty…” Galdor said, returning the smile.

 

“But _you_ look thinner…” Leuthil indicated, frowning at the king. “Do they not feed you properly in that stronghold of yours?!”

 

“I’m fine my lady…” Thranduil said circling his arm around her waist. “And the food is exceptionally nice in my stronghold. You’ll see.”

 

Their teasing was interrupted as Alheru approached them. He glared at Thranduil’s hand around his daughter’s waist but then he gathered himself and bowed his head for the king.

“Majesty…”

 

“Good evening my lord…” Thranduil said with a wide smile.

 

“I see you returned for the feast…” the lord said.

 

“I wouldn’t dare ignore my father in law’s word…” he said chuckling. “You would have made my wife a widow if I would not have showed up.”

 

The elves at the high table laughed. Thranduil’s merry mood was not an everyday event and they all valued it. Aleth went a few steps closer and greeted the king with a slight curtsey.

“Majesty…”

 

Thranduil scanned his sister for a while. She looked stunning in those royal robes and even her brother could not take his eyes off her. Her golden hair poured on her shoulders when she lowered her head for her brother. The king couldn’t help feeling slightly protective of her innocent beauty. He smiled at her affectionately.

 

“Neth-nin…” Thranduil said, releasing Leuthil’s waist. He cupped Aleth’s face and kissed her forehead. “How are you my dear…?”

 

“I’m well my king, thank you…” she said shyly, her cheeks blushing from being the center of Thranduil’s attention in front of so many eyes.

 

“Aleth, come to me tomorrow...” the king said seriously. “We need to talk.”

 

Aleth felt her insides fall to the ground. It wasn’t everyday that Thranduil would demand audience with her. Her mind was working frantically to find a reason for why her brother wanted to speak with her. Had Miklovand betrayed her secret? She immediately pushed the thought away. If this was the case Thranduil would never be so calm. Finally she just managed a smile and nodded.

 

“Galdor…” Thranduil called as he turned towards his friend. “You should also come to me. We need to talk as well.”

 

Though Galdor kept a relaxed exterior Aleth could feel the quarrel inside him. What was happening? Aleth feared that perhaps she had to reconsider the option of Miklvand betraying her.

 

“Yes your majesty…” Galdor said.

 

“Good…” Thranduil clapped his hands.

The musicians had started the music and gradually the elves were leaving the huge tables for the dance floor. Thranduil took Leuthil’s hand in his and pulled her playfully with him.

 

“For now I just want to woo my wife into a dance…” he announced.

 

Leuthil followed happily although she was surprised by her husband’s joyfulness. It had been years since Thranduil had offered her a dance. In fact everyone at the royal table was surprised from his light mood.

 

When the royal couple joined the dance floor the elves cheered and whistled for them and the musicians started a beautiful love song. Thranduil circled his arm around her waist and pulled her to himself so that their bodies were glued together. He lead her through the music never leaving her gaze.

 

“You have done a marvelous job with the feast…” he whispered.

 

“I would do anything to lessen your burden…” Leuthil smiled. “You seem in a good mood though…”

 

“I’m happy…” Thranduil said simply, smiling at her.

 

“Yes I can see that.” Leuthil chuckled. “Does it have anything to do with the stronghold? Is everything in the order you want?”

 

“It’s partly about the stronghold honestly…” he said. “But the main reason is that I have you so close to me after all these weeks…”

 

“You romantic fool!” Leuthil chuckled before she was swept into a turn.

 

“You’ve managed the feast and yet you did not eat anything my dear…” Thranduil whispered after he caught her again. “Are you not hungry…?”

 

Leuthil wanted to say that ‘you did not give me time to eat anything’. But she felt that he meant something else as he was grinning mischievously.

 

“Or perhaps you hunger for something else…” he said impishly when she did not answer.

 

Leuthil felt her heart tremble in its place. Her desire had been denied for too long and now with his closeness she could no longer withstand. She wanted to be breached but she knew Thranduil would tease him before granting her wish.

 

“I do hunger for other things…” she whispered in his ear.

 

“Then let us not delay in fulfilling your hunger…” Thranduil said as if talking about the affairs of the realm. “It’s not polite to keep the queen waiting.”

 

Before Leuthil could think he had taken her hand again and was leading her out of the feast to the corridors that led to the royal bedchambers.  

***

 

A very intense conversation had engaged the lords and ladies at the royal table. It was probably some very interesting subject since they were all fishing for a few seconds to shout their opinion above the others but the princess could not focus on their words. It was something about the stronghold she supposed. Everyone was talking about the new fortress these days but all she could think of was Galdor who was sitting two sits away from her and seemed to be very busy trying to explain something to Lady Meriloth. He was so close to her and yet so far. She chuckled to herself secretly. If she had been Oropher’s heir to the throne she would have probably lost the land to the darkness already as she couldn’t even listen to a simple political conversation when she was filled with other emotions. She suddenly could not breathe anymore and jumped from her seat as if it had stung her. Even then no-one paid a heed to her as she straightened her dress and strode away from the feast to the solitude of the forest.

 

She walked a long time until she found herself beside the river and the sounds of the feast became vague and distant. The weather was cold; freezing to be precise. The breeze coming from the river was like blades scratching her skin. But the coldness she felt outside was nothing comparing to how she shivered from inside. She felt like a bird in a golden cage. She was after all the late king Oropher’s only daughter; King Thranduil’s beloved sister and the one and only princess of Greenwood. Any elleth would dream to be her, but they did not know how horrible she felt; torn between her love and her prejudiced brother. What saddened her most was that it seemed that fate did not give them a single chance to sort things out. She sighed and sat on a branch; shivering from cold.

 

She did not know how long she had sat there with a blank mind when someone covered her with a warm cloak. Before she looked up she knew whom it was. She could pick out his familiar scent as bees could know the scent of a sweet flower from afar. She looked up and smiled at Galdor who was fussing to cover her wholly with his cloak.

 

“Are you determined to freeze yourself princess?” he said irritably, as if she had insulted her.

 

She sighed but did not answer and allowed him to take care of her for a while. Galdor gazed at her for a while before he sat next to her on the branch. He hesitated for a second but then he reached out and took her hand in his.

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked tenderly.

 

“Nothing…” she lied as she dropped her gaze to study her hands.

 

“Don’t lie to me princess…” Galdor said annoyed. “The joy left your eyes the moment your brother walked through the door.”

 

Aleth dropped her head in shame. The lump in her throat was getting unbearable. As if sensing this Galdor caressed her hair and shoved it behind her pointy ear tenderly. “Tell me my love…” he encouraged.

 

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see him safe home but…” she whispered. “I’m just tired of lying to him.”

 

“I’m tired too…” Galdor nodded as he kept caressing her hair. He leaned forth and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’m just waiting for the opportune moment to talk to him…I don’t want to put another burden on him… just wait a while longer dearest…”

 

Aleth nodded and smiled. Then she chuckled lightly to something that had passed her mind.

“What?!” Galdor asked curiously.

 

“Nothing…” the princess said. “It’s childish!!!”

 

“Come on…” Galdor encouraged, chuckling. “Tell me.”

 

Aleth blushed and smiled shyly. “I was planning on wooing you into a dance…” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Thranduil ruined my plans!”

 

Galdor stared at her for a few seconds before he burst out in laughter. She also laughed. For a while the sound of their happiness echoed in the forest and then it slowly faded as they drifted into their own thoughts. Galdor was the first to break the silence.

 

“Who says it’s ruined?” he said thoughtfully.

 

Aleth raised her eyebrows and followed Galdor with her aquamarine orbs as he stood and stretched his hand for her to take. “We have our personal dance floor here…” he said smiling.

 

Aleth giggled as she took his hand and stood. The steward pulled her to himself gently and placed his hand on her waist.

“We have no music…” she indicated.

 

“Perhaps we can call that king brother of yours and ask him to play us a few songs with his harp!” Galdor suggested seriously which made Aleth giggle harder.

 

“I can hum a few songs though!” the steward continued proudly. And he started to hum an old melody they both knew as he swayed her in a slow romantic dance.

After a few moments Aleth merely rested her head on his chest as they moved slowly to no music but the roaring of the river and the whistle of the breeze.

 

“What will you do if Thranduil wouldn’t give you his blessing to marry me…?” she whispered after long moments had passed.

 

Galdor did not answer for a long time. Aleth couldn’t see his face but she could easily guess he was searching for the true answer that would hurt her least.

“I will not cause distance between you and your brother.” he finally said. “I will sail to Valinor…and I would wait for you there …”

 

“So you would leave Thranduil…?” Aleth said raising her head to see his sorrowful face. “You pledged yourself to him…”

 

“He wouldn’t want me near him in that case anyway, if the worst should happen…” Galdor said sadly.

 

Aleth gazed at his unhappy visage and sighed. Then she dug her face deeper in his chest but said nothing. She knew she would not survive a day without him.

 

***

 

As soon as he had swept Leuthil into the bedchamber Thranduil shut the door forcefully and made the walls tremble in their place. Leuthil had almost lost balance form the force she had been pulled inside but she was caught in mid air by his strong arms.

His grip was hard and firm on her elbows. He burned her with his hungry eyes for a moment before he grasped her hair firmly and pulled her head back wildly to claim her lips in a hungry kiss. She opened her mouth almost immediately to give him access and her tongue tangled with his in a fearsome duel.

 

As he deepened the kiss he pushed her backwards with unbalanced steps until they ran into the dressing table. The force made the mirror shake threateningly. But it was not as if either of them would care if it would have fallen and broke. He was now almost biting her lips and tongue when his hand traveled down to cup her right breast. He seemed not satisfied with the access as he struggled to slip his hand inside the collar of her tight garment while he was still ravishing her mouth. When he did not succeed he released her lips with an angry growl and tore her dress savagely with both of his hands. The poor fabric fell into a pool around her feet as he cupped and squeezed her now naked breasts with both hands. “Better…” he purred in her ear and licked the tip afterwards. She moaned and quivered before he captured her lips into another deep kiss.

 

“I liked that dress…” she pestered after they broke to catch a breath.

 

“Then let me make it up to you…” Thranduil smirked before leaving a trail of love bites along her neck. She moaned and gasped as she grasped his soft hair. After all this time, after all these years, she had not tired of him. She loved him all the same. And she desired him as intensely as the first day. She lusted after his strong arms, his big hands, his firm chest, his breathtaking face and sparkling eyes that seemed to cut into her soul like a hundred daggers.

 

His hand slipped between her legs and caressed her thighs, avoiding her weeping core intentionally. She could not breathe and her heart was bursting out of her chest. He made her gasp when he suddenly entered her with two long digits. She whimpered and moaned from the shameless touch and she clung on his heir for dear life when he started teasing her spot with his thumb. He watched her face with great joy as she writhed by his machinations. She was very close to the edge when he so mercilessly removed his hand. She groaned disappointedly which made him chuckle impishly.

 

Leuthil had not known she was leaning on him so heavily until he released his hold on her and made her drop to the floor on her knees and hands. She looked up at him irritably just to see his mischievous grin. Thranduil caressed her hair and face as he towered above her tiny form. His fingers rested on her lips and stroked them for a moment.

  “Will you take me into that sweet mouth of yours…?” he asked huskily.

 

Leuthil smiled up at him. Of course she would do anything for him. But this also gave her the chance to tease him as he had done to her. She worked the laces of his breeches and pulled his rigid member free. He watched with eyes full of lust as she kissed and licked his sacks and then the tip of his hardened flesh. Then she teased the tip with her tongue and lips, not taking him in just yet.

 

“Are we getting even…?” he asked in a low tone.  She only made a sound between a moan and a chuckle while she still teased him with her wicked tongue. “I warn you if you keep me waiting another minute…oooh Leuthil…” he sighed and tossed his head back as she suddenly took him fully inside her hot mouth. His body disappeared in her mouth completely and he could feel it reaching the back of her throat.

“Yes…” he hissed and closed his eyes from the warmth and softness of her mouth. “That’s how a queen obeys her king.”

 

As she concentrated on relaxing her throat she travelled his length with her mouth repeatedly. And after a while she could feel he was close. With a slow move she brought him out of her mouth and elicited an irritated groan from him. She barely was given a second before Thranduil grabbed her by her elbow and pulled her up from the floor. He picked her up slightly from the ground and nearly threw her on the dressing table with a force that nearly pained her rear. This time the huge mirror fell and broke into pieces with a loud noise.

 

Leuthil giggled and held her husband’s lust flushed face in her hands. “Unless you want your sentries to rush inside to save you…” she chuckled. “You need to calm down my love!”

 

“Just shut up…” Thranduil said hoarsely before claiming another deep kiss from her. He pushed her legs apart rapidly and placed himself between them. “I’m sorry my love…” he said with a voice shaking with desire. “I won’t last to take you to the bed…”

 

Leuthil watched her love merrily. He had always been a passionate lover. But this time he was like a marooned man in a desert who had found a few drops of cool water. He had not cared to remove his regal clothes. His body was shaking with lust and droplets of sweat were visible on his brow from unsatisfied desire.

 

“I don’t mind…” Leuthil said lustfully just before Thranduil slipped inside a wet and burning core with a swift move. She gasped from the sensation of being so suddenly full to her limit and she clung to his tunic as he started thrusting in her with full force.

She tossed her head back and cried from the pleasurable pain he was bestowing upon her. He grasped her hair again and pulled her face to his for a savage kiss as his other part ravished her flesh.

 

The sound of their flesh against each other and the noise the dressing table made while hitting the wall over and over again seemed to arouse Thranduil further as Leuthil was already reaching her climax. He tossed his head back and cried out her name as his own climax took him just when she came forcefully.

 

It took him a few seconds to regain his balance and stand up straight. He kissed her again deeply while he was still panting for breath. Then slowly the king removed himself from her.

Sweeping her in his arms, Thranduil picked her up like a feather and with all the care in the world he delivered her on the bed. Then he slowly he stretched next to her and held her in his strong arms. The queen stirred and watched his beautiful face that was now flushed with climax. Ageless and beautiful...

She watched her as his eyes lost focus and he gave in to his heavy eyeleads.

 

***

It was hours passed midnight when Galdor finally came back to the palace to retire into his chambers. That part of the palace was deserted since most of its inhabitants had fallen asleep behind their tables at the feast. Galdor was tired but he was not drunk and as a Silvan he was proud of the fact. Of course with Aleth around he wouldn’t need any wine to be drunk with.

As he whistled merrily he paced the last turn that lead him to the corridor in which his private chambers where.

 

“Someone is happy!” a voice from behind him said. He was startled since he had not seen anyone; so he stopped and turned towards the voice.

 

Miklovand slowly took a step out of the dark spot in the corner he was standing in and then he leaned on the wall casually. His poker face showed nothing but Galdor could sense that he was up to something.

 

“Is something wrong Miklovand?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

 

“I came to your new office to hand in the reports you had asked…” the king’s foster brother said. “But you were not there.”

 

“Yes, I’m sorry…I was…”

 

“I know where you were!” Miklovand interrupted gravely.

 

Galdor raised his eyebrows further and regarded the warrior emotionlessly. Despite their mutual hatred Miklovand never dared to talk to him like that specially after Thranduil’s last orders about Galdor. The steward couldn’t help but feel that Miklovand was definitely looking for trouble.

The warrior went a few steps closer and his face became grave.

 

“You were striding under the moon light with one naughty little princess…” he said mockingly.

 

Galdor felt his insides fall to the ground. His heart beat rapidly, pumping boiling blood into his body. His brain felt as if it would explode any second. Of all the people in the world who could’ve discovered their secret, Miklovand was the worst. But despite his inner turmoil the steward kept his cool mask.

 

“You’re drunk Miklovand…” he smirked and turned to leave.

 

“At least be a man and face the consequences of your actions honorably…” Miklovand said with a slightly louder tone.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Miklovand!” Galdor barked as he turned towards him rapidly.

 

“Oh you know damn well what I’m talking about!” Miklovand growled as he stood with his face inches from Galdor. “I heard it when the queen was talking to the princess. It’s amazing how you’ve managed to keep it a secret for so many years…”

 

Galdor said nothing. All was lost then but still he did not falter.

“I confronted Aleth…” Miklovand continued. “At least she had the heart not to deny it…she is Oropher’s daughter after all, not just a lowly nobody!”

 

Galdor huffed out air and turned away from Miklovand again. He had taken a few steps when he heard his hated voice again.

“I wonder what Thranduil would say if he hears this…”

 

Galdor came to halt. He inhaled a deep breath to calm down before he turned to face Miklovand once more.

“He will never believe you…” Galdor said calmly. “You have no proof for such an accusation…”

 

“That’s true…” the warrior said. “I have no proof…”

Then he slowly paced the distance between them and stood close enough to whisper.

“But if Thranduil confronts you…will you lie to the face of the friend and king you claim to love so much?” Miklovand said and then he looked Galdor straight in the eye. “I thought you were better than this…”

 

Galdor was stoned. Miklovand had indeed a point. It took all his might not to show any emotions.

“What do you seek Miklovand?” he asked disgustedly.

 

“Your resignation.” He said simply with a sickening smirk.

 

“So you are threatening me.” Galdor said matter-of-factly.

 

“You know this is one of the few characteristics I like in you…” Miklovand said cheerfully. “You’re smart in catching the facts!”

 

Galdor smirked. “And what really makes you think that I pay a heed to your word…?” he said sarcastically.

 

“If you’re as smart as I know you are…” Miklovand said with the same disgusting smile. “You would consider and act upon my word.”

 

Galdor’s face suddenly became grave and emotionless; his eyes piercing and merciless. He recited a behavior he had learned long ago from Thranduil; eyes like daggers, cold as ice, back straight as if all the force in the world cannot bend you down. 

“Put the reports in my office Miklovand…” he said coldly. “And acknowledge your limits.”

 

Then he turned and strode the corridor to his chambers. He stormed inside and slammed the door so loud that it would’ve awakened the entire palace if everyone was not so deep in their drunken slumber.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter was a bit too long but I just couldn't break it in half!!! I hope that you enjoyed it anyway...


	34. Chapter 34

The constant sound of the quill scratching the paper had been in his head for the last few hours. Except that there was only the distant sound of his people outside that interrupted the silence of his study. Finally he managed to finish the letter he was writing and folded it carefully sealing the parchment with the royal seal. The seal had not completely dried that he heard a knock on the door and after his call, Galdor entered.

 

Thranduil smiled at the steward that paced the distance between them and bowed his head for his king.

“Majesty…”

 

“Galdor…” he grinned wider as he rose from his seat.

 

“You had asked to talk to me sire…” the steward said as he fixed his curious eyes on him.

 

“Yes…” The king nodded and then his expression became serious. “How are you Galdor?”

 

“I’m fine my king…” Galdor said immediately, a tingle of relief appeared in his eyes.

 

“Your wounds?”

 

“Completely healed my lord…” Galdor said. “The healer Hafez made sure I was completely alright before he let me out of the settlement.”

 

“He’s a great healer I’ve heard…” Thranduil said. “I asked him to move to the capital…”

 

“You seem to have certain plans for him…” Galdor asked with raised eyebrows.

 

“For now I merely want him close…” Thranduil smirked but then he frowned as if the subject he was going to talk about was bitter.

“Did you find anything about your assailant?”

 

“I went to his family with a few guards…” Galdor said and made Thranduil raise his eyebrows. “Though it took us quite an effort to pass the borders unnoticed.” Then he cleared his throat and looked at Thranduil’s curious eyes. “He had had a very crowded family. 4 son and 3 daughters…I talked to his widow.”

 

“Did you find anything new?”

 

“Nothing that we didn’t know of…” Galdor said shaking his head. “After we paid them some gold to talk she said that her husband had had a few strange visitors. But she claimed that she or her children never saw them…”

 

“Did you not persuade her to say more…?” Thranduil said heatedly. “Don’t tell me you just came back without at least threatening some information out of her…”

 

“She did not know, I don’t think she was lying…” Galdor answered. “And you don’t really expect me to threaten a helpless woman with 7 children who has just lost her husband…?”

 

Thranduil huffed out the air angrily. He understood Galdor’s tenderness and he appreciated it but he couldn’t help his annoyance. The king went a few steps closer and regarded Galdor with his heated glare.

 

“I care about your life more than a mortal woman…” he barked.

 

Galdor gave him a face between rolling eyes and desperation which made Thranduil even more annoyed.

 

“There is something else…” the steward said before Thranduil could start again. “She said they had been given 600 elvish gold coins…”

 

Thranduil’s jaw dropped open which made Galdor chuckle since he had given the same reaction while hearing this. As the king Thranduil had been dealing with great numbers of gold but still this amount was too much for any elf in his land to possess accept that the person in question would have access to the royal treasury.

Before Thranduil could open his mouth and express his idea Galdor continued as if he had read the king’s mind.

“I’ve checked all the financial records of the last 20 months…I’ve read all the scrolls one by one…there are no records of such money missing…”

 

Thranduil started pacing his study back and forth. The anxiety was too much for him to stand still.

“I still think the person responsible is in the palace…” he said.

 

“I agree…” Galdor said. “But we have no proof.”

 

Thranduil suddenly turned towards him again, remembering something very important.

“I want guards around my sister and my queen…and also around you…” he said. When Galdor seemed to open his mouth to argue the king raised his hand to silence him. “They might try to finish the job…and I can’t allow it.”

 

Galdor did not like the idea of two full armored sentries following him around but he had to confess that Thranduil had indeed a point. They had succeeded to attack him once…what would stop them from attacking again when they had no valuable information to act upon. So the steward merely nodded his agreement.

 

Thranduil seemed to cool down from Galdor’s consent so he smiled, and then he handed him the sealed letter on his desk.

“Find a trusted courier and send this to Imladris as fast as possible…” he said and then he pointed at a box resting in a corner. “Send the messenger to fetch this too. It’s a gift for Elrond.”

 

Galdor nodded and he bowed his head slightly for his king before turning towards the door. He had barely placed his hand on the handle that Thranduil called him again.

“Ai…Galdor wait…” the king said.

 

When the steward turned he saw Thranduil open a drawer and take out a necklace from it. He immediately recognized the locket and it made his insides fall to his knees. Galdor had not seen it since the attack. He had though it to be lost sometime during the chaos and he had felt so bad about it. But now seeing it hanging inThranduil’s fist washed him with guilt and fear instead.

 

Thranduil took a few steps closer as he explained.

“When you were shot they took off your clothes…” Thranduil said. “And they gave me your belongings.”

 

He came to a halt in front of his fear stricken friend who seemed to have lost all the color in his face and stretched his hand towards him.

“I kept it with me for safe keeping…” he continued. “And then I forgot to give it back before we parted.”

 

Galdor’s dark eyes darted from the locket to Thranduil and back. When he did not attempt to take it Thranduil shook his stretched hand and raised his eyebrows to encourage him. The steward stretched his cold hand and took the locket from the king. Instinctively he lowered his gaze. He couldn’t hold that aquamarine expecting look. A few moments of silence passed between them as Thranduil watched him with unreadable eyes.

 

“You never told me you were courting someone…” the king said softly “I can guess that she’s a Sindar since this is their tradition…and as it seems she loves you very much!”He said searching Galdor’s eyes for answers. “Who is she?”

 

Galdor raised his head. All color had left his face and his eyes had grown wide. He opened his mouth but the words won’t come out as if he was choking. He shut his mouth again and stole his eyes from Thranduil’s piercing orbs.

 

When Thranduil saw how Galdor was struggling and when he didn’t get any answer from his lifelong friend his expression changed dramatically. His soft, tender look turned to a gaze that resembled lost trust or even sorrow and his smile faded. He looked away and frowned deeply.

“Forgive me…It is not my place to ask.” He said softly. “I thought we were closer than this…”

 

Galdor looked up desperately but he couldn’t say anything. He had clearly upset Thranduil and he felt horrible about it. And hearing his friend apologize to him for asking such a friendly question made his stomach stir. But it was as if all the courage had left him, leaving him with a coward soul to struggle with. The king turned away from him silently and took a few slow steps towards the small table on which there was a bottle of wine and a few goblets. He poured a glass for himself and sipped from it with his back on Galdor and he could not see what a turmoil his steward was going through.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor called with a hardly audible tone. He wanted to stop the unfolding events but he was silenced by Thranduil’s raised hand. The king didn’t even turn to look at him.

 

“Go Galdor…” he said emotionlessly. “The letter can’t wait…”

 

Galdor could even feel tears of desperation  filling his eyes. He needed to act and he knew it. But again when he opened his mouth he was interrupted by the knock on the door.

 

“Enter…” Thranduil barked.

 

The door opened and Aleth entered the study. She curtsied almost immediately though her brother had his back on her.

“Majesty…”

 

Before Thranduil turned she darted her eyes on Galdor and glanced a questioning look at him since the steward was almost bursting to tears. Galdor didn’t get the time to convey any massage to her since Thranduil turned and smiled at his sister fondly.

“Aleth…come in.” he said.

 

“Am I not interrupting anything?” the elleth asked doubtfully.

 

“No not at all…” Thranduil said and then he fixed his cold gaze on Galdor. “Galdor was just leaving.”

 

The steward acknowledged his polite dismissal and nodded. He bowed to the king and to the princess and with heavy steps he exited the study. Thranduil’s irritated gaze followed him and the king kept his annoyed look on the door for a while as if he could see his friend through it, but when he turned again to Aleth his eyes held nothing but compassion.

 

“Shall we take a walk outside?” he suggested.

 

Aleth nodded her agreement and held Thranduil’s offered elbow. They walked to the balcony door together and down the stairs that lead them to the royal garden below that was covered in snow except for the stone walkway that had been cleared by the servants. They walked for a long time in silence before Thranduil broke it.

 

“How are you Aleth?” he asked simply just as he had asked Galdor earlier.

 

“I’m fine…” the princess said and when she thought Thranduil wanted a more detailed answer she continued. “I wake up every day and I do my duties as the princess of the realm…”

 

“I didn’t mean that…” Thranduil interrupted, releasing her hand. He turned completely towards her; regarding her with eyes identical to hers. When Aleth kept looking at her puzzled he looked away studying a dried tree as he explained.

 

“I remember the day you were born Aleth…” he said softly with a faraway look in his eyes. “I was merely an adolescent then but I still remember what I felt in the moment I saw you in mother’s arms.”

The king then looked up at his sister. “I knew it then as I know it now…” he said firmly. “…that you are mine to protect…”

 

Aleth smiled as Thranduil scanned her. The king knew that she was not that little baby anymore, nor she was the young child that used to annoy him when he was a young ellon. His sister was a fine lady now. Although she had not inherited Oropher’s height as Thranduil had, she had definitely captured the soft golden hair and piercing orbs. The princess had also inherited Harma’s slender form and breathtakingly beautiful features. Despite all these she was painfully innocent and her eyes showed a much lesser age than she had. But Thranduil knew that despite his own protectiveness, Aleth had to build a life for herself someday. He feared that the death of their father and the departure of their mother had left the princess uncertain of her future and he felt responsible. He frowned and looked at her seriously.

 

“Aleth I’ve been watching you for a while…” he said with concern in his eyes. “I find you lonely and a bit sad…”

 

The princess could hardly keep his worried gaze. Was she really that obvious?!

“I’m fine Thranduil…” she murmured.

 

Thranduil scanned her with a tied frown for a while.

“Is there any particular ellon you are fond of?” he asked directly and when Aleth’s widened eyes met his he continued. “You are well past your majority…if you like someone; just tell me.”

 

Aleth was wordless for a few seconds. The mass of emotions inside her was hard to handle. On one hand Thranduil’s words surprised her as she knew her prejudiced and hot-headed brother. It was strange to hear him talk about her feelings so openly. On the other hand she had the answer to Thranduil’s question but she knew she could not say it although she was exploding. But the hardest feeling was how unwanted Thranduil made her feel at that moment, as if she was a burden that he wanted relief from.

 

“Am I such a bother that you want to wed me away…” she whispered sorrowfully.

 

Thranduil inhaled with a hiss as if she had stung her. Then he went closer and cupped her face with care. His large hands could easily frame her fine visage.

“I never said that…” he said tenderly but firmly. “I merely want you to build a life for yourself. I just want you to know that if you love anyone, you need not hide it from me.”

 

Aleth knew that if Thranduil would not release her face or her gaze her heart would burst out of her chest and relief her from her torn feelings. He was being so kind towards her and all she was doing in return was lying to his face.

 

“Just promise me that you will be open with me about your feelings…” he said with impossible tenderness.

 

The princess merely nodded despite her inner turmoil. She feared so much that her brother would see the truth in her eyes, but Thranduil smiled and hugged her tightly, kissing her hair.

“And don’t you ever think you are a bother…” his deep voice echoed in his chest where her face lay. “You will always remain my little doll.”

 

***

 

After the long meeting with the village leaders Thranduil, Leuthil, Aleth and Galdor strode back to the king’s study. When they entered the room, Thranduil immediately reached for the bottle of wine and his goblet. Aleth caught Leuthil’s concerned look as she scanned her husband.

 

“That didn’t seem bad…” the princess said to break the silence and also pull Leuthil out of her worried daydream.

 

“No that seemed rather good in fact!”  The queen said.

 

Thranduil looked up at them. “You think so?” he asked with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

 

“Of course it was good…” Galdor who had just managed to put a mass of papers in order said joyfully. “You convinced almost all of them.”

 

“But that Siavash still seemed not satisfied.” Thranduil said bitterly.

 

“He is never satisfied…” Galdor said rolling his eyes.

 

“Galdor’s right…” Aleth said. Although she was never not fond of politics she remembered that certain village leader that used to cause her father impossibly heated out rages. “He also used to annoy father.”

 

“But it will not end here…” Thranduil said. “I fear that he would encourage his whole village against the move…”

 

“We do not know yet…You’ve given them three days to think; perhaps he will decide to come with you…” Galdor said casually and then he smiled kindly. “Do not concern yourself with something that has not yet arrived, your majesty…”

 

To the ellyth surprise Thranduil didn’t even look Galdor in the eye but he just nodded. Clearly Galdor noticed the coldness but if it had insulted him, he hid it professionally.

“You have some petitions to take care of my king…” the steward noted as he looked at a scroll among the mass of papers in his arms. “…and a merchant party from the human town has come to strike a deal…they insist on seeing you personally.”

 

“I’ll meet them in the afternoon…” Thranduil said drinking the whole glass in one attempt.

 

Galdor nodded and then he bowed to all of them and fled the room as if his life was in danger. Aleth followed him with her gaze and then turned to Thranduil.

“I should also be at the weaving workshop…” she said. “I’ve left the dyes untended…”

 

Thranduil nodded as he poured another full goblet for himself. Aleth casted a worried look towards Leuthil but said nothing before she curtsied and left.

 

When the door was shut the queen turned towards her husband expectantly.

“Don’t you think you had enough!” she said sharply. “It’s only midday and you’ve already emptied half a bottle.”

 

“Please my lady…” Thranduil said grumpily. “I had a really hectic day…and I let me remind you that it’s still not over.”

 

Leuthil decided to drop the subject for now. If the wine relaxed him she would not complain…for now. But she had other important matters on her mind.

 

“You seemed cold with Galdor…” she said carefully. “Did you two argue…?”

 

“I’m the king…” Thranduil said sharply. “No-one dares to argue with me…”

 

Leuthil raised her eyebrows. She was well acquainted with Thranduil’s foul mood but she could not imagine what had caused it this time since everything seemed in order. 

 

“Then what has caused this coldness…?” she asked kindly.

 

The tenderness in her voice seemed to calm Thranduil’s hidden rage a bit and his expression softened. He frowned as if thinking about a very unsolvable problem.

 

“I can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something from me…” he whispered.

When he saw Leuthil’s raised eyebrows he explained. “Not about the affairs of the realm…something more personal perhaps.”

 

“Well he’s entitled to a private life Thranduil…” Leuthil tried to reason.

 

“I know…but we’re friends…” Thranduil said. He looked more like a child that had been betrayed by his playmate in hide and seek. “There’s supposed to be no secrets…”

 

Leuthil cursed Galdor and Aleth both as he reached to caress Thranduil’s arm. “I’m sure he’ll come to you eventually.” She said. “He probably doesn’t want to burden you.”

 

“I hope so…” Thranduil said.

 

Leuthil took a deep breath. It was finally the time for her to put her matter on the table for her king husband.

“I wanted to talk to you…” she said.

 

Thranduil turned towards her. She knew she had all his attention but it was hard to put her issue to words.

“I went to the healers last night…” she said.

 

“What is it?” Thranduil interrupted worriedly as he held her arm. “Is something wrong with you?”

 

“No, I’m fine Thranduil…relax.” She chuckled but then she remained silent.

 

“Then why did you go to the healers?” Thranduil asked sheepishly.

 

Leuthil took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant…” she said. “I have your child inside me.”

 

She felt relieved for a second after saying it out loud but a new concern washed over her when Thranduil’s eyes grew wide but he did not show any sign of happiness. He seemed more petrified. She thought that he was probably shocked so she gave him some time to sink in the news. But his expression only got worst.

 

“Are you certain?” he choked after a while. Still there was no emotion in his face but fear.

 

“Yes…” Leuthil said happily. “Are you not happy my love?”

 

Thranduil released her arm slowly and took a step back. The smile faded from the queen’s face as she watched her husband’s reaction. His breath came in disordered rasps and his eyes were wide with shock and fear; as if she had given him the news of someone’s death.

 

“Thranduil...” she called worriedly as he really looked like as if he was fading, but the king silenced her with a shaky raised hand. He looked away for a moment as if digesting the news of an army of 10,000 attacking Greenwood. Then without a word he turned and fled the room as if she had an infectious disease.

 

The elleth remained there in silence for a while; not really believing Thranduil’s reaction. She had thought he would be shocked but she had not really thought that he would be upset. She could swear that she had heard her own heart break in her chest. Although she still couldn’t feel the growing faer inside her she could imagine the little infant weep; perhaps a manifestation of her own grief. Her own tears flooded down her cheeks freely as she walked out of the dark, damp study with slump shoulders and a lump in her throat.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated as always :) they keep me writing remember! :D


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well a few chapters back one of my readers suggested bringing Glorfindel back to the story.
> 
> It triggered my imagination and the plot took a dramatic change in my mind and many new ideas were formed for the later chapters…I hope that it turns out fine. 
> 
> RexThranduil I don’t know if you are still following but I dedicate the idea to you.

Elrond was pulled from his daydream by the knock on the door. He placed the parchment he was reading on the desk, straightened himself on the chair and called for the person to enter. The door opened with a crack and the lord of Imladris made a mental note to fix the ancient entrance to his massive study; though deep inside he knew he wouldn’t find the time to do so. He smiled at the sight of his friend who entered with his usual informality.

 

“Good afternoon Glorfindel…” Elrond greeted. “Thank you for returning to the valley on such short notice.”

 

“It’s alright…” Glorfindel said as he closed the door and paced the study to reach Elrond’s desk which was hidden under a mountain of scrolls. He eyed the parchments critically and sighed as he sat on a chair in front of the desk. “All these centuries and the size of this paper hill does not lessen!”

 

Elrond chuckled at his tone and sat back on his own chair. “Pray the Valar that you are not the one who has to deal with them…”

 

“I thank them every day!” Glorfindel teased. Then his expression turned serious. “What urgent business has forced you to call me back from the patrol so soon?”

 

 Elrond nodded as he picked up the parchment from his desk and shook it playfully in the air. “Thranduil has finally sent me an official request for the troops he had asked in Lorien.”

 

“It’s been a long while!” Glorfindel smirked. “Of course official correspondence is too much courtesy to ask from the uncivilized Silvan…”

 

Elrond rolled his eyes. “He’s not uncivilized! He just doesn’t enjoy formalities. And to remind you he’s a Sindar not a Silvan…He has explained the reason of his delay in his letter…he had been dealing with much trouble.” Elrond answered and when he saw Glorfindel’s questioning look he continued. “His right hand; Galdor had been assassinated by a mortal man while they were travelling north.”

 

“What?!”  Glorfindel jumped, grasping the chair’s arm as if it was his sword.

 

“He’s alright now…” the lord said waving his hand. “But they’ve not found the one who had ordered for it…”

 

“That’s strange…” Glorfindel frowned.

 

“And disturbing…looks like there’s a scheme going on in Mirkwood.” Elrond added. “Thranduil is very attached to this friend of his…undoubtedly the responsible for this assassination attempt will see the Elvenking’s full force wrath.”

 

The lord of the golden flower nodded with a frown. A few moments passed before he looked up again. “What does this have to do with me?”

 

 The lord of Imladris scanned his longtime friend for a few seconds before answering; as if measuring if he was suitable for the mission he wanted to assign to him. “I want you to gather your legion and travel to Mirkwood. I want you to serve alongside the Silvan captains under Thranduil’s command.” He finally said.

 

Glorfindel’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re not serious!” he smirked.

 

“In fact I am serious…” Elrond said calmly.

 

The balrog slayer sat straighter on his chair as if getting ready for a deadly fight. “You really don’t expect me to go in that forsaken forest and serve Oropher’s son, do you?”

 

“I am asking exactly that!” Elrond smiled as if he was proud of Glorfindel to grasp the issues so easily.

Yet Glorfindel looked as if he was having a really bad nightmare. He chuckled hysterically and looked at Elrond with disbelief.

“Elrond, I am the balrog slayer…the lord of the Golden flower… Glorfindel of Imladris…. I can’t fight under the command of someone else! Not to mention Thranduil Orpherion!!!”

 

“You serve under my command, don’t you…?” Elrond said, rising his dark eyebrows.

 

“Yes, I do!” Glorfindel said desperately as he leaned forward. “Because I believe in your leadership…”

 

“And I believe in Thranduil’s!” the lord said firmly.

 

Glorfindel sat back and closed his eyes hoping that when he opens them again all this will fade away. But when he did Elrond was still watching him with his famous expectant look.

 

“What do you seek in this deal?” he sighed. “It has nothing for us…”

 

“What I seek is not materialistic benefit…” Elrond said calmly as if reasoning with a stupid elfling which made Glorfindel sit straight and regain his grounds.

 

“The Elvenking gets Imladrian troops to protect his people…” Glorfindel said sharply. “And what do we get in return Elrond? Well let me remind you… _Nothing_!”

 

“Thranduil believes in Sauron’s return Glorfindel…as do I…” Elrond reasoned. “He tried so hard to gain allies and stop the evil spreading in his forest but he was denied…I believe in his cause…”

 

“Yes I know that!” Glorfindel said impatiently. “But I still cannot understand why you seek a deal with no benefits…? Not to mention with the Sindar…for Valar’s sake Elrond, our kin killed each other.”

 

“Thousand years ago!” Elrond argued. “Long has passed!”

 

“Yes and we all happen to be ancient enough to remember!” Glorfindel shot back.

 

“Glorfindel, Thranduil’s longtime allies have turned their back on him…” Elrond said desperately. “He’s weak and he’s alone…this is the time to gain his alliance…”

 

When Glorfindel opened his mouth to interrupt he was silenced by Elrond’s raised hand and the lord continued. “Thranduil believes in what we believe…If I help him today I might be able to finish this antique hatred between our kin…at least for my part.” the lord said gravely. “And I know that when the time comes for the last fight against this evil; Thranduil will stand with us in the front line…he will do whatever it takes to stop Sauron.”  

 

Glorfindel opened his mouth to protest but his words did not come out. He looked like a fish struggling for air, but then he shut his mouth again and growled; sitting back on his chair and crossing his arms.

 

Elrond watched him for a few seconds. “I wish for you to lead my troops in Mirkwood but if you do not wish to go…”

 

“I’ll go…” the balrog slayer grumbled.

 

“Good then…” Elrond said joyfully while the balrog slayer rose to his feet as if the chair was burning his rear. Then the lord of Imladris handed a sealed parchment to him. “I want you to take Elladan and Elrohir with you too…”

 

When he saw Glorfindel’s raised eyebrows he chuckled. “I’ve written a note for Thranduil. My brats will be disciplined under the Elvenking’s care!”

 

Glorfindel chuckled and took the parchment from the lord.

“I can’t wait to see how Thranduil will deal with them!” he said. “At least I will have some entertainment in the forest, watching him struggle with your monsters.”

 

“I’ve given him full authority to do as he wishes with my sons…” Elrond said chuckling. “I pray that he will not murder them through the process!”

 

Glorfindel chuckled again and shook his head.

 

“Set out as soon as possible…”Elrond said, suddenly becoming serious again. Then he rose from his seat and stood in front of his friend, gazing at him kindly while he patted his shoulder. “This time in Mirkwood will be good for you my friend…” he said. “You’ll be away from Rivendell and perhaps your broken heart will be mended.”

 

With the mention of his bleeding heart the balrog slayer looked up with sorrowful blue eyes. “Nothing will mend my heart…” he whispered.

 

Elrond didn’t get the chance to continue as the door to his study opened again and a dark haired elleth entered. Her eyes darted from her father to Glorfindel and she smiled. “My lord…” she said happily. “I didn’t think I would see you back in the valley so soon…”

 

“I wouldn’t be back so soon if your lord father had not summoned me Lady Arwen…” Glorfindel said coldly, trying so hard to look emotionless as he stole his eyes from hers. Then he turned and nodded at Elrond before striding out of the room.

 

Arwen followed him with her gaze and when he closed the door behind him she looked back at her father. “We’ll never be the same…” she said matter of factly.

 

“It takes time…” Elrond said smiling as he opened his arms for his daughter. “Come now…See what the Elvenking has sent for you.”

 

“The Elvenking? For me?” she said surprised as she walked to see what his father was pointing at on his desk.

 

She gasped from the sight of the shimmering jewel. On a piece of dark blue velvet laid a comb made of pure gold that was treasured with sparkling emeralds. She watched in awe as her father picked the precious thing up and fixed it in her hair with care. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and she was startled again by its beauty on her raven black hair.

 

“It’s so beautiful…” she mused, afraid to touch the precious thing. “Looks like I was mistaking about the king of Mirkwood…”

 

“Yes, he’s not as wild and uncivil as you all think he is!” Elrond chuckled.

 

“He _is_ wild…” Arwen corrected mischievously. “Yet he definitely has a sense for treasures…”

 

***

 

 

The steward walked the distance between Thranduil’s study and his own office with heavy paces, as if he was punishing the stone floor of the palace for causing distance between him and his king. He secretly appreciated his own self-control since he was easily capable of grabbing one of the torches from the wall and set the entire palace on fire. But he remained calm until he reached his newly established study and shut the door hard with his kick, not caring if the sound would startle the other residents to death.

 

He paced the small room back and forth, grasping his own reddish-brown hair from time to time. He cursed his own weakness. He was Galdor, the hand of the one and only Elvenking, his protector of the realm, and more over his one and only friend, his brother, the Silvan who had pulled him back from the hands of Mandos a hundred times, the one who had fought beside him, who had killed for him and who would gladly lay down his own life for him. He had never realized how fragile this bond was. How easily it could be broken. Surely he was entitled to a private life but he understood Thranduil’s reaction to his secrecy. The Elvenking had never kept anything from him and in return he had done the same all his life, up until now. Thranduil was the only person in the world who knew him completely. Many in Greenwood and beyond knew how he had come from a lowly, poor and crowded family and reached the highest level one could gain in the royal court of the Elvenking. But the only soul who knew the whole story was the golden hair king that he loved so much.

 

What Thranduil knew was the darkest secrets in his heart. Thing that he was even ashamed to think of. The king knew for instance how his parents were forced into a traditional marriage after his grandsire had learned of Galdor’s father love with a mortal woman. The young ellon had hid the woman for years and when the sire had learned of three half-elflings, bastard offspring of a forbidden love, he had forced his son to marry an elleth who had turned out to be in love with another ellon. When the mortal woman finally dies from old age, alone and poor in a secluded village, the steward’s father leaves the woods to die alongside her leaving a loveless widow with three half-elflings and four other little elves, the youngest of which had been Galdor. All these had happened before Oropher and his company of Sindars had travelled to the land. He remembered his mother leaving them alone for weeks and even months and then she would return with some coins to buy food or clothes. He could still recall the nights that the seven children cuddled close to each other to keep warm from the freezing winters, waiting endless days for their mother to return. She never tried to send the half-elflings away though. She raised them like her own children. She bathed the sons like her own three boys and combed the hair of the little half-elleth like she did for her other elven daughter, never complaining. When they had grown they had gradually leaned why she left such long periods. They learned what she did to gain money for their living. A simple illiterate she-elf with no special skill had little to do except whoring herself to mortal men. In a land with no leader and no laws but strict traditions, she had had no other choice.

 

They were still very young when Oropher had come to the land. He had established laws and organized the people. And then he had ordered for a pension to be given to the widows. Their lives had developed but it was barely enough. The older brothers had found jobs in the smith’s workshop and they earned a little money, so their mother did not have to sell her weary body anymore. But the years of serving as a courtesan had wounded her feaer beyond repair.

 

When Thranduil and his father had visited their village, Galdor’s mother had faded only a few days past. Gaining the young prince’s attention unintentionally by saving his life Galdor had changed his family’s fortune and had made his own fate take a remarkable turn. Oropher had thanked his family by granting them each a small talan to live in and he had also given them jobs and gifts to help make their lives easier but not to injure their pride. Thranduil on the other hand had taken the youngest member of the poor family with him to the palace. He had provided shelter and food for him, and he had patiently thought him how to read and write in different dialects of elvish and even the tongue of the men. The Silvan had learned courtly manners, noble acts and he had read nearly the entire library of the royal palace, not wanting to disappoint the young well-learned prince who discussed every subject existing in the world with him. They used to stay awake long nights and talk about the history of Middle-earth, different literature books, poetry and politics. Soon the prince had taken him to training grounds, to build a warrior out of him as well. And he had tried so hard not to make him regret. Not a single trace of his horrible past remained on him. Thranduil never mentioned it, yet still he was the only one who knew the steward’s most private secrets. He had every right to be upset when Galdor refused to tell him who he was in love with. But how could he tell. How could he look into Thranduil’s eyes and tell him that despite all the things he had given him in life he wanted more, that he was greedy, that he desired one of the jewels most precious to him. Thranduil had given him life, how could he ask for more than that…?

 

He had barely placed his weary body on the chair that someone knocked on the door.

 

“Enter…” he barked, but his sour expression softened when the princess walked through the door with a parchment in her delicate hand.

 

“My lady…” he smiled and rose from his seat.

 

She walked to him with the grace of a true princess, head high and back straight, reminding him of Thranduil and even Oropher for that matter.

 

“My lord…” she said seriously as she placed the parchment on the desk. “I’ve enlisted the things we need for the workshops and the medicine storage.”

 

Galdor picked the parchment up and gazed at it for a while.

“They will all be in the next shipping from the men’s settlement.” He said. “I’ll let you know when they arrive my lady…”

 

Aleth nodded, still strangely serious. “Also, care to tell me why my brother is upset with you?”

 

Galdor’s eyes scanned her, as if he was trying to measure how much information she had. She was definitely upset, and angry. It seemed that the steward had to endure the wrath of all the members of the royal family this day. He sighed and sat on the chair as if his knees would give away under him any second. When he did not answer for a while she raised her dark eyebrows. 

 

“Have you told him about our affair?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

 

The steward shook his head, not looking at her directly. She frowned and kept her piercing aquamarine orbs on him.

“Then what’s wrong with you two…?”

 

“He has learned I’m courting someone, though he does not yet know whom…” he said in a low tone, still not looking at her. “He asked me about it and I failed to answer…”

 

“And now he’s upset because he thinks you’re keeping secrets from him…” the princess completed his sentence sarcastically.

 

Galdor finally looked at her. She seemed frustrated. Her hair showed her anger with the unruly manner it stood around her fair face and her expression was dark with that deep frown and flaming eyes.

“You lost another chance yet again…” she said disappointedly.

 

Galdor sighed again and looked away facing the window. He could hear the waterfall even from this distance. He would gladly drop himself from its very edge instead of seeing her sadness.

 

“You could have ended this you know…” she continued calmly, though her rage was clear in her shaky voice. “I’m starting to think you do not wish for our love to reach its destination…”

 

Galdor snapped back and glared at her, rising to his feet as if the chair had stung him. Piercing her with his eyes he shook his head.

“How can you even think that?” he hissed, as if her words had burned him.

 

“I do not know what to think anymore Galdor…” she shot back immediately. “But it certainly does look like this.”

 

Galdor opened his mouth to argue but no words came to him, like a fish that had been thrown out of the water he struggled just as he had struggled in answering to Thranduil. He shut his jaws and looked away again, with clenched teeth.

 

“Let me know when the supplies arrive, master steward…” the princess said coldly before walking out of the room and closing the door.

 

Galdor growled after she left and slammed his fist on the desk several times but it didn’t cool him down so he kicked his chair hard and send it flying to the other side of the room which only brought him an irritating pain in his toes.   

 

***

 

The queen of Mirkwood had been sitting on a rock for hours until night had fallen across the misty forest. The sound of the river reached her from afar. This was where the wild roses grew in the spring but now there was nothing left except the dried stems that were iced with cold; just like her heart. She had run out of tears, she had even run out of thoughts. Leuthil just stared at the forest floor. Thranduil had shattered her heart into pieces, something that she had thought he was never capable of.

 

“I knew I would find you here…”

 

She didn’t even turn towards him. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She feared that if she would look up at her husband she would see that feared look upon his face again. Of course he would always find her there; where the wild roses grew in the spring. This was where she had fallen in love with him. This was where everything else in her life had lost meaning and all the cause of her existence had become centered in Thranduil. She had no life without him. And even when he had hurt her, even when she wanted to flee from him; she ended up here…the place that reminded her most of her love for him.

 

After a while she felt his warm cloak wrapped around her freezing form. Then he circled her and sat on another rock in front of her. The queen finally dared to look up at him. His face was pale and his eyes were concerned, though he acted calm. After long moments of silence that Thranduil merely watched her, he reached to take her hand which she immediately pulled away. Thranduil frowned and placed his own hand on his lap, much like a child that had reached for a forbidden sweet and had been caught in the act.

 

“I see you’re still upset with me…” he breathed.

 

She glared at him angrily. “Should I not be?” she snapped.

 

“Leuthil…”

 

“You broke my heart…” the queen said sharply.

 

“Forgive me Leuthil…” the king said, dropping his head in an uncharacteristic defeat. Somehow it angered Leuthil more. She had convinced herself that he definitely had a reason for his action but now she saw she was wrong and it fumed her.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?” she said angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me you never wanted a child?”

 

“I _do_ want a child Leuthil…” he said impatiently.

 

“Then why do you act like this?” she nearly yelled. “Why do you act as if…”

 

“Because I’m FREAKING OUT!!!” Thranduil bellowed desperately and startled Leuthil. He looked ready to burst into tears as he jumped from his rock and started pacing around anxiously.

 

Leuthil watched him for a while. She was deeply surprised by this truthful confession because she knew Thranduil and she knew how saying he feared something was hard for him. He looked like a child that was given the responsibility of an adult. She remembered seeing him like this ages ago when he was forced to replace his father on the throne. He was also scared then. And just like now he had become moody and occasionally hysterical. She stood from her place and walked to him. With a hand on his arm she stopped his frantic pacing.

 

“I know you fear the darkness around us…” she said when his aquamarine orbs met his.

 

“I know how to protect my child from darkness Leuthil…” Thranduil said sharply. “That’s not what I fear.”

 

“Then what are you scared of?” the queen asked, looking directly in his eyes.

 

Thranduil’s gaze shook and he looked away as if being ashamed. “Tell me…” Leuthil encouraged and she was even more startled when she saw her husband blush.

 

“I…I fear that…it’s stupid…” the king stammered. “I fear that I fail to be the father my child deserves…”

 

Leuthil couldn’t believe what she had just heard. The great Elvenking doubting himself in such a simple task. The reason for this definitely lay in the depths of his memories as a child.

 

“I fear that I will be a disastrous parent…” he said in a shaky voice, still looking at the forest floor instead of her. “Like my own father…”

 

“Thranduil look at me…” the queen said as she cupped his faced and forced him to look down at her. “You are not Oropher…” she said firmly. “You are his hopeless son that has always failed to be stern and heartless as him, and that has brought such a disgrace to your bloodline by being so soft-hearted.”

 

Thranduil looked up at her with disbelief and when he saw her face he chuckled. She laughed as well. The heaviness on her heart had been lifted. Knowing that she had been wrong and her husband did not hate her baby she felt the joy returning to her soul again.

 

“You will be a great father…” she said firmly, keeping his doubtful gaze to instill her words inside him. “…and your child will love you…I will make sure of that.”

 

Thranduil smiled shakily and embraced her. She buried her face in his chest and sighed. Soon they wouldn’t be able to hug so tightly like this. She chuckled to herself and tightened her arms around her beloved.

 

***

 

Thranduil passed the corridors with his arm circled around his wife possessively. Galdor caught the sight of them and found himself envying their happiness together as he approached them from behind.

 

“Your majesty…” he called when he was close enough which made Thranduil turn irritably towards him never letting go of Leuthil’s waist.

 

The queen seemed rather merry and she couldn’t keep her wide grin, which seemed rather odd. Galdor lowered his head for the royal couple. “I’m sorry to disturb you…”

 

“What is it?” Thranduil barked in a way he never did to Galdor.

 

For a moment the steward just forgot what he wanted to say. Thranduil’s harsh behavior was too much for him to ignore. But when the king raised his dark eyebrows expectantly Galdor finally found his words.

 

“The merchants your majesty…” he said. “They waited the entire afternoon for you but you didn’t show up.”

 

“Am I supposed to think about the valuable time of mortal merchants now?” Thranduil said sharply.

 

“But my king…” Galdor stuttered. He had never seen Thranduil keep anyone waiting for long.

 

“Thranduil has had his mind pretty occupied today Galdor…” Leuthil giggled childishly. “You must forgive his lack of attention…”

 

This time it was Galdor the one who raised his eyebrows darting his gaze from Leuthil to Thranduil as he marked how excited the queen was. He also noted how cold the king had become again, his face emotionless as the stone statues of the royal garden.

 

“Darling don’t you want to tell the news to Galdor?” Leuthil asked excitedly, looking at Thranduil like an elfling longing to tell a hushed secret. Thranduil on the other hand kept his icy gaze on the steward who was now looking at him curiously. The king’s face was half light by the burning torches on the wall and it showed his cold eyes reminding Galdor of the thick ice on the lake in the heart of winter.

 

“No, I don’t think so…” the king said finally which made Leuthil frown. “I don’t feel the necessity to tell him such private things…since we are not that close anymore.”

 

The sting in his tone bit the steward’s heart like serpent and he couldn’t help his face from showing the pain the king had caused him. The queen seemed frustrated as she had unintentionally reopened the wound between the old friends. She gazed at her husband questionably for a moment and then she looked at Galdor, trying to apologize without saying anything.

 

“I will meet the merchants tomorrow…” Thranduil said coldly as he tightened the grip on the queen’s waist. Then he turned again and they both walked away from Galdor who merely stood in the dim corridor for a while to calm down.

 

It was amazing how all of a sudden his world was shattering into pieces. His love had withdrawn from him and his friend had not yet forgiven him. The ache he felt in his heart was intolerable. He needed to rest. If he could rest his weary head on the pillows he would get some strength and perhaps he could sort things out. But when he turned to walk to his chambers he nearly bumped into Miklovand who seemed to be standing behind him for quite a while.

 

“You seem frustrated…” Miklovand said as he kept his position leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.   

 

Galdor closed his eyes for a second and counted to ten before looking back at him.

“What do you want?” he said calmly.

 

“I still do not see any sign of your resignation.” the warrior said with a smirk. “I thought you were smarter than this…”

 

Blood was boiling in the steward’s veins. His frown tied and he took a few steps towards Miklovand who did not move and inch. With his face only inches from the captain of the guard he pierced him with his dark gaze.

 

“You do not scare me Miklovand…” he said slowly, as if he was trying to teach some foreign language to an elfling.

 

“Well then you are a fool…” the warrior said casually. “At least I’m giving you the chance to move out of the way respectfully. If Thranduil becomes aware of your affair with his beloved sister, he will through you out of the palace. That is of course if he’s merciful enough to spare your head…you know how prejudiced and possessive he is!” he winked at the last statement.

 

Galdor chuckled; rather hysterically as the veins on his neck were popping out. He placed both of his hands on Miklovand’s shoulders, gripping them firmly as the look on his face changed to deadly.

“Listen to me Miklovand…” he said firmly. “This is the last time you threaten me or put your nose into my business…I will not tolerate this further.”

 

He then released the warrior and walked past him. He hadn’t gone a few steps that he heard his hateful voice again.

 

“I truly do not understand why you put your life and position in danger for an elleth who is not worth it…” he said. “Of course you’ve grown up in poverty; you must be used to eating other’s leftovers.”

 

The comment made the steward freeze in midway. His mind was working frantically to figure out the implied meaning behind his words. He turned on his hills and strode back to the warrior who still had that disgusting smirk.

 

“What does that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

 

“Has she not told you?” Miklovand said with raised eyebrows. “I thought centuries of secret affair leaves no room for secrets.”

 

When Galdor did not reply but looked at him expectantly, Miklovand chuckled.

“You poor little servant of the royal family!” he said. “Has your girl not told you that she used to be in love with me…?”

 

Galdor felt the walls of the corridors collapse on his head. He no longer saw Miklovand’s hated face, nor did he hear his voice. His vision seemed to blur behind the veil of anger in front of his eyes. His body felt numb and his knees felt weak. The world circled around his head as he reached for a pillar to regain his balance.

 

“Such sweet words of love used to come out of those rosy lips…” Miklovand continued with a faraway look in his eyes, as if he could imagine what he was saying. “And her body felt like fire against mine when she burned with desire…”

 

He did not finish his sentence as Galdor finally lost his temper and attacked him.

“Shut up! Shut up!” he yelled as he grabbed Miklovand’s collar and shook him with every word. The warrior seemed to be caught off guard and he stumbled back when Galdor pushed him to the ground and he fell to the stone floor, giving Galdor the chance to attack him again; hovering above his form.

 

“Don’t… say… her… name… with… your… filthy… mouth…” he yelled as he punched Miklovand’s face over and over again with both of his tied fists. “I’ll kill you…I will KILL you!”

 

He didn’t know how many blows he delivered on the dark elf’s face. He didn’t count how many times he hit the captain’s head on the stone floor. He only realized that Miklovand no longer struggled under his weigh and he went numb on the floor. When the rage died slowly within him, Galdor finally noticed the blood on his hands. He darted his eyes down to the figure on the floor and gasped from the result of his own anger.

 

Miklovand lay on the floor of the corridor lifeless and limp. His nose was crushed and his face was covered in blood that was pouring out of his nose and mouth and several cuts on his skin. It sickly reminded him of how the warrior had tried to kill Thranduil in a contest long ago.

 

Galdor managed to get back on his feet; his shaking knees barely tolerating the weight of his trembling body. All the rage from before had been replaced with fear. His heart was drumming inside his heaving chest and he felt sickly dizzy. This couldn’t be happening….

 

But Miklovand seemed anything but alive…the steward could definitely smell death around him.

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short, but that's all I could manage between exames...  
> I'll be updating soon, I promise :D  
> Hope you enjoy

The weather was hot. His body was burning and his throat was dried. He could taste the ash in his mouth and the way his eyes burned was painfully familiar to him. He had experienced these feelings long ago before mount Doom. He had been certain then that his death had been close. But challenging it he had won. Yet in this night he knew there was no survival for him. 

He sat on his bed, his sleeping gown was soaked with sweat and the room was impossibly hot. He could not breathe. Flashes of red and yellow light and waves of heat drew his attention. Noticing the flames he gasped. 

The room was burning in a horrifying fire. The curtains were on fire as well as the furniture. Smoke rose from everything, making it impossible to breathe. He felt his heart beat quicken as he immediately looked beside him to wake his wife. Startled he found that she was not there. 

He jumped out just in time and the pillars of the bed collapsed where he had been resting seconds ago. He coughed, chocking from lack of air.

“Leuthil…” he called with a hoarse voice, peering in the flames to search for his beloved. “Leuthil…”

There was no sound but the hoofing of the heat waves and the cracks of the wood falling to the floor from the ceiling. He stumbled to the attached bathing chambers to look for her. They were also aflame. Relief washed over him when he saw they were empty as well. But immediately a wave of fear replaced in his heart. Where was she? 

He turned around; the entrance to the balcony was blocked by the burning curtains leaving the main door as the only exit. He fought his way through the flames and burning furniture. Shielding his face with his hand he struggled to reach the door. The aflame curtains swung in his way like burning arms trying to catch him.

After what seemed like an eternity he threw himself out of the room. He fell to the corridor floor on his hands and knees when his bedchamber exploded right after he had reached the hallway. It took a few moments to gather himself and stand again. The entire palace was burning. Hot flames were bursting out of the rooms like the tongues of a hundred dragons. He stumbled through the corridors calling the names of his loved ones. But no answer came. It seemed that the palace was deserted. 

Turning on the third corner he saw an elleth in the end of the corridor with her back on him, standing among the flames. He didn’t have to see her face to know her. 

“Leuthil…” he called as loud as his sour throat would allow. Hope swept over his heart. If he could just reach her, he would take her out of the deadly chaos.

Slowly she turned towards him and Thranduil felt his insides fall to the floor. Her dark hair was tangled and stood in an unruly manner around her face. Her eyes were dull and cold and dark circles were around them. Her cheekbones had popped out, manifesting the dark holes beneath them. She looked sick…she looked deadly sick.

Thranduil suddenly remembered the flames around her. Opening his mouth to warn her he suddenly noticed something in her arms. It was very small baby, perhaps only a few months old. It wasn’t wrapped around any blanket and its nudity made Thranduil feel horrible. The small creature was horribly thin and dark. Looking with more care he noticed the strand of blood running from its nose and mouth. He knew then that the baby in her arms was dead.  
His heart missed a few beats before he looked back at Leuthil with widened eyes. She on the other hand looked at him with pure hate. 

“You did this…” she roared.

He was breathless; speechless. The flames around her seemed to be consuming her.   
“Leuthil get away from there…”

But she didn’t move. She merely stood there and gazed at him. He ran to her, wanting nothing more that to take her out of the burning palace but something grabbed his ankles and he collapsed, not on the floor but on hundreds of dead bodies. The corpses were spread on the distance he had to close to reach Leuthil. He knew them; he had met them thousands of times in his nightmares. Their faces never left his memory after the last alliance. Pale faces and empty eyes. 

He moaned and looked away, desperately trying to stand. A horrible feeling of nausea washed over him. He searched for his beloved who was still standing there with the dead baby in her arms. But she seemed further away. He struggled to move towards her but the dead were pulling him down with force. Cold, pale hands grabbed his wrists and ankles; his waist and neck; trying to drown him between them. Their voices echoed in his head. 

“Do not leave us brother…” 

“Your blood, lead us here…”

“Why did you take us to our death…?”

“Join us now in what you brought upon us…”

Their bodies and hands took him in and he cried in agony when the flames consumed his beloved in another explosion before him.

 

“Thranduil…”

The king jumped out of his horrible nightmare with a load gasp. He immediately sat on his bed and looked around frantically. His chest was heaving and he blinked a few times to recall where he was.   
He was still in his bedchambers. But everything seemed in order. His frightened eyes searched the curtains and the furniture for any signs of fire, but found none. 

He jumped from the sensation of a soft hand touching his shoulder. The queen was sitting beside him on the bed. He scanned her frantically. She looked alright. Her face seemed healthy though she looked tiered and she was smiling at him.

“You were having a nightmare dear…” Leuthil said as she kindly caressed his hair and took a towel to dry the sweat on his face tenderly. “It’s alright my love.”

He was still panting. His chest hurt and cold sweat had soaked his nightshirt making it stick to his body. He took a deep breath as a wave of relief washed over him. He could still see the dead ones and the flames and the bloodied baby.

“You called my name several times…” Leuthil said worriedly as she handed him a glass of water. “What did you dream of?”

To her surprise his eyes were still filled with fear. She immediately regretted her question as it seemed that even remembering the scenes disturbed him. She was used to Thranduil having nightmares. He often dreamed of the last alliance and Mordor. But this time he looked too frightened. 

“Nothing…” he finally breathed as he drank the whole glass in one attempt. “It was just a dream…”

The queen kissed his cheek and smiled as she rose from beside the bed and taking his hand, she urged him to do the same.   
“Come now…you need to change your clothes.” She said. “A guard is waiting for you outside.”

Thranduil frowned though he was glad to have a subject to distract him. “In the middle of the night? What’s wrong?”

“He said it’s an important matter that needs your attention…though he didn’t say what it is, no matter how much I tried.” She said rolling her eyes. “It seems that it cannot wait until dawn.”

***

When Thranduil stormed into the healing quarters, Galdor flinched. He was standing on the left side of the bed on which they had laid Miklovand. On the other side of the bed two healer maidens were standing who both curtsied when the king rushed inside.

Galdor dared to glance at Thranduil once. Clearly he had been woken from a deep sleep. His hair was tangled and messy, and in some places damp, as if he had been sweating. His eyes were puffy with sleep and his mood seemed extremely foul. 

When the Elvenking reached the bed he scanned the figure of his foster brother with a look that was a combination of disgust and concern. Miklovand laid there unconscious. His nose was bandaged and his face was deformed by many bumps and bruises. 

“What happened here?” Thranduil demanded, darting his eyes from the healers to Galdor. 

The two maidens exchanged a worried look and Galdor kept his head down. The silence was definitely testing the king’s patience. “Answer me…” he said firmly when none of them said a word. 

“When Lord Galdro brought Lord Miklovand in, he was unconscious.” The younger maiden started. “His nose was crushed and there were dark bruises on his face…” she continued, pointing at the ugly bumps. “There are also several bumps behind his skull; there can be a sign that his head has been hit hard on something several times…which we believe is the cause of the unconsciousness as well, your majesty.”

Thranduil’s mind was still half asleep and he found it hard to process the information. He immediately looked back at Galdor who was still silent with his head dropped. He was very sure that Galdor definitely had an explanation for this mess. His eyes scanned the steward who truly looked like an elfling who has been caught stealing candies. Then he saw Galdor’s hands. His knuckles were bruised and injured and there was dried blood on his palms where they could not be hidden inside his tied fists. Thranduil found it hard to keep looking at him. These traces showed signs of extreme violence and this couldn’t end up good. 

“Will he live?” the king asked directly.

The healers exchanged another meaningful look and the older one answered.  
“If there is no internal bleeding, yes your majesty…” she said. “We can do nothing but wait…”

Thranduil’s eyes went back to Galdor who was still silent and slightly shaking. He looked so overwhelmed and the king knew better than to interrogate him in front of the healers. 

“Leave us…” he told the ladies, not looking away from the steward. 

The healers curtsied and left the healing wing. When the door was shut behind them Thranduil circled the bed fast and stood in front of Galdor. 

“What has happened…?” he demanded firmly. “Tell me now…”

Galdor looked up at him but immediately stole his eyes away, yet the slight eye contact was enough for Thranduil to see the fear in his eyes. He seemed to be chocking with his words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times to talk but failed. The king noticed how his friend was shaking like the leaves in the wind. He could sense and see Galdor’s anxiety; he looked so much like himself when he had taken Galdor’s lifeless body to the settlement. The king knew these physical reactions well. When one is supposed to fight with death to save someone’s life; the aftermath of the battle is this. So he waited patiently for him to find his words. 

“He said some things…” the steward finally managed, with a voice that was hardly audible. “I lost control…” then he dropped his eyes again, fighting back the tears in his eyes and the lump in his throat. The fear seemed to be shaking his heart inside his chest.

“What did he tell you?” Thranduil asked gently with a hand on his shoulder, as if it was obvious that Galdor would never do such a thing without cause.

The steward shivered. He didn’t deserve this tenderness when he had nearly killed Miklovand. On the other hand his mind was working frantically to find an answer for Thranduil’s question. The reality that he had to lie to the king again made him feel worst if that was even possible. 

“He insulted my family…” he whispered, after what seemed like an eternity; still not looking at his liege. 

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. “Do you take me for a fool Galdor?” he asked sharply.

The steward looked up at him with fear, worried that he had unintentionally angered Thranduil. But the king didn’t seem upset, though he was extremely annoyed.   
“I’ve known you my whole life…people insult you for your family background every day, and you don’t even answer them back.” he said. “This is not the thing he has provoked you with; is it?”

Galdor couldn’t keep looking in those piercing orbs; eyes like blue gems. He dropped his gaze again, not being able to stop his shivering. His body trembled like a willow in a deadly storm. He pressed his nails in the palm of his hands to stop the frantic shake but it only caused him to injure himself. Thranduil’s expectant gaze was killing him. It was as if the king was tearing his flesh apart with that look.

“He said something about that girl of yours to aggravate you, didn’t he?” Thranduil said shrewdly. 

The steward’s heart turned in his chest and he felt sick. Oropher had always said about Thranduil’s brightness and his ability to work puzzles out, but sometimes it freaked Galdor out to see the king read him like an open book. An Iron hand squeezed his insides. He knew that if he was anyone else in this world, Thranduil would have punished him immediately for showing such violence against someone who the late king had acknowledged as a member of the royal family. The king was showing him true mercy and gentleness, and in return he couldn’t even tell him the truth. All the vows he had taken through his long life were being broken. As an elf, it was his birth vow never to hurt a kin, and not an hour ago he had almost killed one. As Thranduil’s friend it was his duty to protect his family like his own. It was his moral responsibility to consider his sister as his own; instead he had lusted over her for centuries. And as an advisor it was his duty never to keep secrets from the king, which he was doing on regular basis these days. The mass of emotions in his heart suddenly poured out. He couldn’t control his overwhelmed heart and he sobbed like a frightened elfling. He wished he could run away; flee deep into the forest until his legs would give away. And then he could just die out there, away from his failure, away from expectations, and away from the two people he loved most in his life. 

Thranduil couldn’t hide his surprise. He had never seen Galdor in such a state. Normally he was the weak one and the steward was the strong who took care of him. He had never seen him so frail, shaking; crying. The fear of killing had broken him. It broke his heart to see him like this and still be of no use. He couldn’t help Galdor if the steward kept refusing to tell him the whole story. But for now, he seemed to need someone to take care of him, not to push him for more information. So he just grabbed his lifetime friend and pulled him to his chest in a tight embrace. 

It was amazing and yet heartbreaking how Galdor gladly returned the embrace and buried his face in Thranduil’s shoulder as he kept sobbing quietly; his hands gripping the king’s robes tightly as if he was afraid to fall. 

“I’m sorry Thranduil…” he sobbed in his shoulder. “I’m sorry for everything…”

“Shshsh…” The king said tenderly as he still held his shaking form. “Do not fret…everything will be fine…”

Galdor said no more and Thranduil knew that he wasn’t weeping or apologizing only because he had hurt Miklovand but because he was also still keeping secrets. ‘How many secrets he was keeping and how much important were they?’ the king wondered. But Thranduil knew well that this was not the time to push him. He remembered a time, long ago when they were both elflings. He had held Galdor like this then, when he had fist opened up to him about his horrible background, about the death of his father and the things his mother had done to keep them from starving. The morning after he had taken away the poor, yet loyal, elfling with him. And after that he had never seen him so fragile. Long moments passed and the steward gradually calmed and broke the embrace, wiping away his tears.

“This is embarrassing!” he whispered more to himself as he blushed. 

“Why, you are not allowed to cry?!” Thranduil chuckled bitterly. Then he patted his shoulder and smiled kindly. “Don’t worry…no-one will ever know.”

Galdor sighed and nodded. His dark eyes had become swollen and his nose was red. He looked so much like the elfling Thranduil remembered from childhood. His expression suddenly became serious despite the grief still lingering in his eyes.   
“I wish to resign Thranduil…” he suddenly said. 

“Now where did that come from?!” Thranduil sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“These actions cannot be tolerated from the hand of the king…” Galdor whispered.

“I am the one who says what is tolerated and what is not…” Thranduil said firmly. 

“Can’t you see?” Galdor said desperately. “I’m not worth the things you’ve given me…”

“Enough!!!” Thranduil barked angrily, silencing his friend. 

Again Galdor dropped his head, not looking in those eyes.   
“You’re frightened and exhausted; this is not the time to make such decisions. And I will not accept it anyway…” the king declared. “Go to your chambers now, and rest.”

Galdor raised his head and opened his mouth to argue but he was silenced again by Thranduil’s firm voice.   
“That was an order Galdor, not a suggestion…”

Galdor’s dark eyes searched his and after a few seconds he nodded. The king had a point anyway; his weary body was indeed giving away to his exhaustion and anxiety.

Seeing his submission, Thranduil smiled and went closer, holding Galdor’s shoulders in his hands.   
“There is no need for resignation…” He said. “But when Miklovand wakes, I demand that you do whatever he asks for reconciliation.”

“Yes your majesty…” Galdor whispered.

Thranduil nodded, clearly satisfied. Then he lifted Galdor’s chin up and made him look him in the eye.   
“Come to me when all this is over…” he said gently. “I believe we have a lot to talk about…”

Galdor smiled shakily and nodded. Perhaps he would find a way to tell everything to Thranduil without angering him. The king also smiled back when he didn’t get any argument. He waved his hand as a gesture of dismissal, sending the worn out steward to his rooms. 

***

In a guest chamber, deep within the halls of the woodland realm sat three human merchants. Though they had each been given an individual room for the time they were supposed to stay in Greenwood, they were now all in one room; one sitting on the bed and the other two sitting on the couches beside the fireplace, sharing some wine. 

The one sitting on the bed was much younger than the other two; merely a teenager. The other two were in their mid forties. Like many men they were bearded and rather dirty. Their nails were black with filth and their teeth were rotten inside their mouths. 

“These halls are fine!” the younger one said with amusement. 

“Don’t get used to them, Gorsh.” One of the older ones said. “We’ll be leaving soon…”

“We’re losing time…” the other one said seriously. “What have you find Turkan.” 

The man called Turkan shifted in his seat and ran his hand over his beard.   
“The Elvenking’s womenfolk go to the forest from time to time…” he said looking at an invisible spot on the wall. “I have been watching the particular wench we’re looking for. She goes into the woods almost every three days.”

“Good…” the other one said as he sipped from a glass of wine. “We’ll have her when we are leaving…”

“We can’t take her while she’s inside the borders of the capital; the power of her people protects her.” Turkan said. “She’s also guarded with at least two.”

“If we can lure them away from the palace we can manage two guards…” the other man said.

“Yes, but how do we do that…” Gorsh said stupidly. 

“That elf bitch that paid us…” the other one said. “She’ll find a way…”

The other two nodded.  
“This is too dangerous.” Turkan groaned. “The Elvenking we’ll have revenge.”

“But the money is good…” the other one said. “And how will the Elvenking get revenge when he doesn’t know we’ve done this? We’ll be out of this forsaken forest before anyone finds out.”

They fell silent for a while. Each one of them in their own thoughts.

“Konam…” the younger one called. “You said you’ve seen her?”

The man called konam nodded and a disgusting grin shaped on his lips. “What of it?”

“Is she beautiful?” Gorsh asked shyly. 

“Aye, she is…” Konam smirked. Then he pulled out his pipe and lighted it. A few more minutes passed in silence and konam seemed to be thinking. He was the eldest among the three and seemed to be their leader.

“I might just let you have a piece before I finish her…” he finally said.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately...  
> I hope you enjoy !

Thranduil finished reading a piece of parchment and threw it on the desk sarcastically as he smirked.

“Do they really think that I will accept this treaty?” he said mockingly, looking up at Galdor.

 

“I told them that you would not, but they insisted anyway…” the steward said.

 

Thranduil shook his head and then covered his face with his hands.

“I hate independent merchants that suddenly show up at your door! One can never trust them.” he moaned. His voice muffled by his own palms. “Tell them that we do not require their goods and send them off.”

 

“We’ve rejected their treaty; perhaps it’s more polite to let them stay a few days.” Galdor said carefully. “If their leaders hear we’ve just kicked them out it won’t be good for the future deals.”

 

Thranduil lifted his eyes and for a few seconds it looked like as if he would argue. But after a few moments of merely gazing at Galdor he nodded.

 

“Give them two days to pack up and leave…” the king sighed. “Give them supplies and anything they need for their travel.”

   
“Yes your majesty…” Galdor said as he picked up the parchment and folded it. Placing it inside his robes he looked up at his king.

 

“Your majesty Lord Siavash has also asked to see you at the time of your convenience.” He said very politely with a wink.

 Both of them knew Siavash and his argumentative nature. Throughout the time of Oropher and Thranduil himself the lord had not changed and had problem obeying the Sindar kings of his lands. But being an influential leader in the south both son and sire had tried to put up with him.

 

“What does he want?” Thranduil asked grumpily.

 

“No idea!” Galdor said, shaking his head. “But I believe it’s about the move…”

 

“I’m not sure if I can take another disagreement about the move.” Thranduil sighed. “Tell him to come this afternoon…”

 

Galdor nodded and then he turned to leave. When he opened the door he almost ran into Miklovand who had raised his hand to knock.

 

“Come in Miklovand…”  Thranduil chuckled at their startled faces.

 

Thranduil knew that the warrior had wakened but he hadn’t seen him since so with his piercing gaze he scanned his foster brother head to toe. His nose was still bandaged and the bruises had turned to an ugly brown except for a purple one still lingering under his left eye. As a whole the captain of the guard was a horrible mess.

 

Milovand kept his emotionless eyes on Galdor as the steward exited the room and closed the door behind him. Then he turned towards Thranduil who was watching his face attentively as if it was a very interesting horse racing match.

 

“You don’t look worse than your normal face…” the king chuckled. “In fact I think you’re more attractive this way…”

 

“I heard that you’ve visited me four times while I was unconscious. And now you say I’m attractive.” Miklovand said with raised eyebrows. “Have you secretly fallen in love with me? I must warn you I’m not that easily wooed to bedding you, like others are.”

 

Thranduil’s grin immediately faded and was replaced by a cold piercing look. From the day he remembered, Miklovand had always tested his patience. But as he had gotten older he had learned not to burst out in anger by his provocations. Showing Miklovand his limits had also been a challenge since the day Thranduil had replaced his father.

“I might just remind you whom you are talking to Miklovand…” Thranduil said sharply. “If my father was still king you might have just been banished for saying such a thing to a royalty.”

 

“If your father was alive, many things would’ve been different…” Miklovand said meaningfully, and a hint of sorrow was clear in his tone.

 

Thranduil got the point in his words but chose to ignore it. He sighed and rose from his seat and walked the distance between them to stand in front of Miklovand. He regarded the raven head elf for a few moments before he started talking again.

 

“Galdor resigned…” he said, judging Miklovand’s each single reaction with his sharp eyes.

 

The captain of the guard raised his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth twitched; Thranduil clearly saw the hint of happiness in his eyes that he tried so much to hide. It was quite natural. If Galdor was pushed aside, the captain of the guard would be one of the closest to the steward’s state.

“Oh…!” Miklovand finally said.

 

“Yes, but I did not accept…” the king said and watched joyfully as the happiness died in his foster brother’s eyes. “Clearly I do not approve his actions, and clearly he should face the punishment for it; yet I do think a resignation is too much.”

 

Thranduil could feel anger rising up inside Miklovand. The king could clearly feel its heat. The captain of the guard pressed his lips together and frowned looking away. Anger was burning in his eyes and his tied fists showed that if anyone except Thranduil was standing before him, the fellow would have definitely received a punch.

 

“If the king was alive, a lowly servant such as him would’ve lost his head for sending Oropher’s son to the doors of Mandos and back.” Miklovand said from behind clenched teeth.

 

Thranduil took in a deep breath to keep calm. The thing he detested the most was being compared with Oropher. And the pest knew this. But the king would not give him the joy of seeing him annoyed or angered.

 

“Well unfortunately the late king is dead…he’s been dead for centuries now and he will not return.” Thranduil said firmly, hiding his own mass of emotions. “And I might remind you that I am his _only_ son, _I_ am king now. And I am _not_ Oropher.”

 

“No you are not…” Miklovand said, scanning Thranduil head to toe disgustedly. “If you were half the king he was we wouldn’t have ended up running away from our home yet again.”

 

“That’s enough Miklovand…” the king snapped firmly, almost loudly.

 

The captain fell silent and looked away again. He had clearly pushed Thranduil over his limits. Thranduil went even closer and stood inches from him.

 

“I know that you needled Galdor with your poisonous words that resulted in his thoughtless behavior. I know him enough as I know you.” The king said. “However, this does not justify his actions.”

 

His words made Miklovand look up again.

 “Have you decided a penalty for your loyal dog…?” he asked.

 

Ignoring his insult the king nodded. “He’s to do anything you demand from him in reconciliation…” he said.

 

Miklovand raised his eyebrows. This was indeed surprising.

“Tell me what you want from him and you will have it…” the king said firmly. “I want this thing settled and finished.”

 

Miklovand frowned as if thinking. He seemed calmer. He looked up at Thranduil. He had known that beautiful features since he could remember and he had hated that golden hair, those high cheekbones and aquamarine eyes since then. He despised the person in front of him and anyone who loved him, and that would be almost everyone. The only people that he had ever loved were the late king Oropher and his daughter. One did not love him back and the other had left him alone among the people who hated him. Fate played a nasty game with him by taking Oropher away. His destiny had fallen into the hands of Oropherion, and he had felt like standing on the pointy edge of a dagger ever since; feeling that Thranduil would crush him under his powerful authority in a blink of an eye. But every time the king had surprised him with his judgment. Although he wished to see Galdor dead, deep in his heart he knew that Thranduil was not being a tyrant.

 

“Just an apology would suffice…” he finally whispered, not looking the king in the eye.

 

Thranduil gazed at him for a while, hiding his surprise. He had expected Miklovand to require something extremely horrible from Galdor. And he had made himself ready to negotiate for Galdor’s wellbeing.

 

“You made me happy…” he confessed. “I thank you for your generosity, Miklovand. You will have your apology. I promise.”

 

The captain of the guard nodded and Thranduil turned away from him to stand in front of the massive window. Sensing his dismissal Miklovand went to the door but Thranduil’s words stopped him from existing.

 

“What did you say to provoke him?” the king said without turning towards him. There was no criticism in his voice; only curiosity.

 

Miklovand turned and hesitated for a while before answering.

“I confronted him about something he’s been hiding from you and he lashed out.” He said calmly.

 

Thranduil turned towards him with an unreadable face. The captain couldn’t tell if he was angry or suspicious or at least annoyed.

“Miklovand, if you know something tell me now…” the king said in a low but firm tone. “If not; be silent for the rest of your eternity.”

 

Miklovand smiled which made his face even uglier.

“It’s not my place to talk about someone else’s affairs, your majety.” He said. “I’m just saying that perhaps you should investigate about your pet’s recent secret activities instead of interrogating me.”

 

Then he bowed and went out of the room, leaving Thranduil perplexed and annoyed.

 

The king was surprised how fast the flames of suspicion rose inside him, threatening to burn his sanity away. His heart beat like a drum. He felt haunted and even slightly betrayed. The horrible pest had reached his goal. He had planted the seed of doubt in the king’s heart and the poisonous plant was already stinging his mind, making him doubt the closest person he had to a true brother.

Thranduil leaned on the desk, holding the sides of it with his palms, his nails digging into the wood. The weight of unspoken secrets and venomous distrust had bent his back.

 

“What are you doing Galdor?” he whispered to the empty room. “What are you keeping from me?”

 

 

***

 

“Siavash Keyvanion, lord of Southernwood…”

 

The loud announcement of the guard snapped Thranduil out of his daydream and he sat more properly on his throne, holding his royal stalk firmer in his hand. The lord strode the distance with long firm paces and bowed to the king. Thranduil knew Siavash from since he could remember. He was one of the Silvan leaders of the villages and a very prejudiced one for that matter. The lord’s red hair was always braided in the Woodelves’ fashion and his brown eyes showed his ancient soul despite his ageless face.

 

“Lord Siavash, it’s good to see you again.” Thranduil greeted. “Tell me what can I do for you?”

 

The lord rose from his bow and regarded the king with emotionless eyes. Despite his own powerful aura Thranduil always felt small around this particular elf. Siavash had a special talent in making the people around him feel uncomfortable and the Elvenking was not an exception.

 

“I’m here to let you know of my decision about the move, your majesty…” he said.

 

Thrandui nodded, encouraging the lord to continue.

Siavash shifted where he stood as if it was hard for him to say what he wanted to say.

 

“I myself and most of the people in my settlement have decided that we cannot abandon our home…” he said. “We have decided to stay, your majesty.”

 

Thranduil had expected this. Siavash was always known for his rebellious and often aggressive nature even in the time of Oropher. His villagers were also very old residence of the forest and it was quite natural for them to want to stay. But Thranduil couldn’t help the feeling of betrayal that crept inside him. However he hid his feelings behind his ice cold look. After all he had given them a choice and now he had to respect it.

 

“My lord, I believe you are aware of the consequences of your decision.” The king said calmly yet firmly.

 

“Yes your majesty…you made it clear that the royal guard will not be responsible for the safety of the village.” the lord said.

 

“True…” Thranduil nodded. “Anyone who wishes to stay is free to do so, yet you will remain my people and you will still receive my monetary and economic aid. But I must let you know that you are the only village that has decided to stay. I will help you however I can, I promise, but that will not change the fact that you will be left alone to defend yourselves. Are you sure that you are making the right choice?”

 

“We are aware of that my lord.” The lord said. “And we are well capable of defending ourselves.”

 

Thranduil did not like the sarcasm in his tone but there were other things he had to settle so he pushed the thought away.

“Is there anyone in the village who wants to join me despite your decision?” the king asked.

 

“There are a few families my king…” Siavash said bitterly, as if those families were betrayers.

 

“Then a committee will come to your village to help them with their move…” the king said, and then he looked the village leader in the eye. “These people that have chosen to come with me are mine to protect. If you or any of your people tries to interfere in their decision or stop them from coming, I’ll make sure you regret it. Do you understand Siavash?”  

 

“I understand my king…” the lord said, clearly not satisfied that he was being threatened by the king.

 

“Good then…” Thranduil said and he forced a smile. “I hope that you will never regret your choice my lord.”

 

“I hope the same for you my king…” Siavash said and bowed again. Then he turned and left the throne room.

 

Thranduil followed him with his gaze and when he disappeared through the gates he leaned back on the throne and closed his eyes. Galdor who had stood silently all the time went closer. He hesitated a few moments, watching his king. Thranduil looked tired. With his head leant on the back of the throne and his eyes closed he looked exhausted. The move had not yet started and it was already wearing Thranduil out.

 

“That went well…” the steward said carefully.

 

“It’s the calm before the storm.” Thranduil said without opening his eyes.

 

“Do not worry my king. He won’t make any problems…” Galdor said with a smile but he was interrupted by the king.

 

“Leave me alone Galdor…” he ordered, his eyes still closed and his head still tilted back on the throne.

 

Galdor was surprised from this disrespectful attitude but said nothing. Clearly the king was upset and angry. The gap between them was opening up again.

The steward bowed and left the throne room. The distance from the throne to the massive doors seemed much longer than usual to him.

 


	38. Chapter 38

 

It was two days later that the princess finally found the queen in the royal sitting room after hours of searching. Leuthil was surrounded with maids and really busy with a mass of colorful fabric on the floor.

“Majesty…” Aleth said formally it was not proper to call Leuthil otherwise in front of the servants.

 

The queen raised her head and smiled at her friend. But then the grin was replaced by a suspicious frown when she saw that Aleth was dressed in a travelling tunic and leggings.

 

“Are you going somewhere princess?” she asked.

 

“Yes…” Aleth said. “I’m going to gather some herbs for the healing chambers.”

 

“Can’t the servants do that?” Leuthil asked with raised eyebrows. Then she pointed at the fabrics on the floor. “Beautiful fabric has arrived my lady, I just wanted to call you to come and take a look.”

 

“I’ll do that when I return…” Aleth said with a smile. “I’ve received reports on a very rare plant that has been seen on the northern side of the waterfall…I should go gather it myself. We don’t want to lose it…”

 

 

 When Leuthil’s worried look did not disappear the princess laughed.

“Don’t worry my lady…” she said. “I’m taking a whole army with me”

 

Leuthil smirked at that.

“Then I’ll accompany you to the gates.” She said. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

 

Aleth nodded and the two went out of the chamber side by side, heading for the palace gates. When a few moments passed in silence Aleth became impatient.

“Well?!” she encouraged.

 

“I have news…” Leuthil said suddenly coming to a halt.

Then she took Aleth’s hand and put it on her belly. For a few moments the princess merely looked at her with confusion. But then her eyes widened as like any other elf she sensed the weak yet unmistakable existence of another faer inside her friend. When Aleth’s jaw dropped from shock Leuthil giggled.

“You’re going to be an aunt!” the queen said, her eyes sparkling from happiness.

 

Aleth gasped and laughed and finally she just hugged the queen tightly. She could sense Leuthil’s happiness. Her own happiness was threatening to explode her heart. In less than a year she would be the aunt of a royal child. The baby of her lifelong friend and most importantly the child of her brother; and probably the next heir to the throne of Greenwood. She finally let Leuthil go and they both giggled from their tears of happiness.

 

“I’m so happy for you…” Aleth said as they resumed walking.

 

“I wished that you would finally marry Galdor and our children could grow up together.” The queen sighed.

 

“I wished that it was _that_ easy…” Aleth said regretfully.

 

“Aleth…” Leuthil called seriously as they reached the open gates. She grabbed the princess’ arm and led her out of the earshot of the guards. “Thranduil has suspected some things…”

 

When she saw the frown on Aleth’s face she continued. “He has sensed that Galdor is hiding something from him and you know how shrewd he is; Although he doesn’t know who she is, he already knows it’s about a girl Galdor is courting…it will be a short while that he understands, and I don’t think he’ll like you two keeping such a secret.”

 

“You think I haven’t told Galdor a hundred times to talk to my brother?” Aleth said desperately. “He just keeps postponing it…sometimes it gives me the feeling that he’s not serious about it.”

 

“Don’t even think that…” Leuthil said sharply. “You and I both know that he loves you fiercely. But it’s not easy…he needs a push.”

 

“Here he comes…” Aleth said, her aquamarine eyes peering in the courtyard as Galdor approached them from afar. Then she rolled her eyes and looked away.

 

Leuthil watched her as she did so. She could understand her attitude towards the steward. The princess was unsure of her future and the years of uncertainty were catching up with her. She had become tiered of worrying and hiding. She needed to settle down with her beloved and start a life. What frustrated the queen was that how these lovers complicated things instead of solving it. She sighed and after patting Aleth on the shoulder she turned back and went inside the palace again, leaving the princess to deal with her love alone.

 

After the queen’s departure Aleth completely ignored the steward. She held her head high and descended the stairs to the courtyard, joining her three guards who were waiting by their horses. Galdor fastened his pace and before she could mount her mare he called her.

 

“My lady…” he called as he reached them. He bowed his head for the princess hastily. “May we speak?”

 

“As you can see my lord I’m in a hurry…” Aleth said coldly.

 

“Please…” Galdor begged. “It will only be a minute my lady…”

 

Aleth hesitated for a second but then she released the rein of her horse and followed Galdor. The steward walked away from the guards and when he made sure they were out of earshot he turned towards her. Aleth noted how exhausted his features were and for the first time she could see anger in his dark eyes.

 

“I’m listening…” the princess said.

 

Galdor looked away, his brow tied. He seemed to be struggling with his words. Aleth longed to reach out and smooth that line between his eyebrows but she didn’t move. The steward looked back at her with eyes burning with anger.

 

“Is there anything I need to know about your past relationships Aleth?” he asked with a soft voice. Yet the signs of anger were clear in his tone.

 

Aleth frowned, but before she could say anything Galdor continued.

“Miklovand came to me…” Galdor said with clenched teeth. “He told me about your past affair.”

 

Everything became clear to Aleth. She had expected Galdor to seek her out after their last argument but her wait had been in vain for the steward never came looking for her in the last days and then she had heard that Galdot had fatally attacked Miklovand in the corridor which had surprised her to great extent because she knew how calm and easy going the steward was. Now everything was apparent. All she could do was to mend the damage Miklovand had done, if it was still possible.

 

“That was a long time ago Galdor…” Aleth whispered. “It was nothing important…”

 

“Well it’s important to me…” Galdor snapped. “He still loves you…”

 

“It was a childish affair; I was barely past my majority…” Aleth argued. Then she went a few steps closer to look the steward in the eye. “I never loved him, not the way I love you…”

 

Galdor looked away again. Her eyes weakened him. He lost all power when she looked at him like that. She was like cool water on his flames of anger. But he didn’t want to cool down. He wanted to know the truth. He _needed_ to know.

 

Aleth watched her beloved wearily. He was aflame. She was sure that Miklovand had told him something really disturbing because his rage was far more than what must have been. She placed a hand on his arm to draw his attention but he kept his gaze away.

 

“What has he told you that has troubled you like this?” the princess asked, trying to read his emotions.

 

Galdor’s frown deepened and he seemed to be choking with words that were hard to say. He finally looked back at her.

 

“He said that he bedded you then…” he said, his voice shaking from disgust and anger.

 

Aleth’s eyes widened. For a few seconds she just shook her head, trying to find suitable words to deny the accusation.

“No…” she finally choked. “That’s not true…”

 

Galdor scanned her, trying to find the truth. She truly looked disturbed. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. All the time she shook her head in denial.

“I never did such a thing, I never… I never loved him like that…” she said desperately. Then she held Galdor’s tunic in her fists as if begging him to believe her. “He never touched me…I swear.”

 

Galdor said nothing but merely looked at her with exhaustion. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. Being doubted by her beloved like that was like tearing her flesh out with a dagger. It was killing her.

“Galdor please…” she begged. “Say you believe me…”

 

“I don’t know what I should believe…” the steward whispered.

 

Aleth’s expression changed. Her desperate features turned to anger.

“This had just given you an excuse hasn’t it?” she growled. “To give up on us…”

 

Galdor shook his head as she suddenly let go of his tunic as if it had stung her.

“I’m not giving up on us…” he said. “I just don’t understand why you kept this from me…”

 

“For the same reason you are keeping our affair from Thranduil…” Aleth said with a sting in her tone. “I was afraid to lose the people dear to me…”

 

Galdor said nothing. So many emotions ran inside him that he didn’t know which one to feel first. Aleth shook her head and turned away from him.

 

“Where are you going?” Galdor asked immediately.

 

“To the forest…”

 

“Let me come with you…”

 

“I have guards with me…”

 

Galdor grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Please…” he said. “The forest is dangerous…I can’t let you go alone.”

 

Aleth twisted her arm and released it from his grip. “I don’t need your permission…” she snapped. “I am the princess of this realm; I get orders from no-one!” she woofed. “Who are you? My brother? My husband? You are neither!” she said with clenched teeth. “You’re just a coward…”  

 

Then she turned again and went to the guards. Galdor stood and watched while she mounted her white stallion but he said nothing. His injured pride forbid him to take any action; to stop her from going into the woods so unprotected. She pulled the rein and galloped away with her guards following.

Galdor couldn’t shake the horrible feeling rising inside his chest as she disappeared in the woods. 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but longer ones are on the way ;-)

The group had gone far away from the borders of the capital, searching for the rare plant that according to the books had purple petals. Despite the freezing cold the snow was completely melted and the trees were already singing the songs for the spring to come.

 

The elves did not stumble even the slightest on the mossy floor of the forest. They walked adeptly through the trees and the slick rocks. They reached an edge where they could no longer continue with their horses, so they dismounted. Aleth looked down the natural stone steps that they had to descend. The end of the road down was dark but she knew that a cave lay there, where they would probably find the plant. She looked back at the guards. All three of them were Thranduil’s personal sentries. The king had ordered their guards to be exchanged just a few days ago. She was still uncomfortable with them.

 

“Ardalan, Eklo...” she called the two. “Stay here…I’ll go down with Niman.”

 

“My lady…please hurry.” Ardalan said. “The sun is setting…”

 

Aleth nodded and gestured for Niman to follow her. They went down the road. The sound of the waterfall and its moist showed that they were close. Soon the princess and the guard were out of sight and they reached the mouth of the cave. Just beside the cave was a deep gap that ended up near the lake.

 

“Stay here…” Alet told Niman who was inspecting the deep cleft. “I’ll be only a minute.”

 

She didn’t wait for the guard’s response. Ardalan was right it was getting late. She walked inside the cave. The sun’s light was still enough to light the inside. She didn’t need to look hard to find what she was looking for.

 

The princess smiled to herself and took out her dagger. Kneeling beside the purple flower she started cutting it carefully.

 

Despite what she had thought it took a long time to gather all of them and when she finally finished the cave was almost dark. She was surprised that Niman had not called her once as the worried sentry would have wanted them to return before dusk. She turned towards the cave’s entrance.

 

“Niman…” she called aloud. “Will you give me a hand…?”

 

Aleth waited for him. But no sound came. She stood up from where she’d been kneeling on her sore knees and peered in the half-dark cave.

“Niman, are you still there?” she called. Again no answer came.

 

Perhaps the sentry had joined the others when she had taken long. Aleth tried to move the sac she’d filled with the weeds but she found that she could not. The tiered princess sighed and dropped the bag. She had to go all the way up to find the guards. Annoyed she strode out of the cave.

 

“Niman…” she called again, this time much louder.

 

The silence was too much. There was no sound; not even the rustling of the leaves or the whistle of the wind. Even the trees seemed quiet. The calm seemed dangerous to her, and all of a sudden she felt fear rising inside her heart. The fine hair on the back of her neck stood and her spine felt like a stalk of ice. The adrenaline in her blood made her vision sharper and it was then that she saw how the leaves on the forest floor had been pushed towards the gap in the land.

 

Taking a few cautious steps, she peered in the opening. Her breath hitched when she saw the sentry lying at least 30 feet down, near the lake. His red hair had covered his face so she could not see if he was still alive. Clearly he had fallen off. In her panic she didn’t even consider how strange it was for a wood-elf to fall in such a noticeable gap in the land.

 

The princess turned and started climbing the stone steps up using both her hands and feet to go faster.

“Ardalan…” she called aloud as she pulled herself up. “Ardalan, come down, Niman is hurt…”

No answer came. She cursed her faltering breath that lowered her tone. The sentries probably did not even hear her. She forced herself to speed up despite the pain in her hands and knees. Niman, the loyal sentry of her brother was dying or he could even be dead by now.

 

She moaned from exhaustion when she finally climbed the last step and pulled herself up. Holding a near branch she gained back her balance on her shaky legs.

 

“Ardalan, we need to…”

But what she wanted to say was silenced by her own deep gasp as she stumbled back in fear and shock and hit her back on the tree behind her.

 

The sight before her almost made her faint in fear. Her heart missed a few beats and her eyes widened in terror as her hand instinctively flew to her mouth to stop the scream that was definitely exiting her throat.

 

The two sentries lay there, dead. Eklo was a few feet away from her, drowning in his own blood. His throat was split, probably with a dagger, and the blood flowing from his mouth and nostrils had covered his face, making it unrecognizable. His blood had splashed around him and had dyed Aleth’s white stallion in crimson spots that were shedding down the mare’s restless form.

 

With a distance from Elko, Ardalan lay. Clearly his death had not been as fast as his comrade. There was clear evidence of a quarrel around him and on his own body. His warrior tunic was torn in many places and the dagger resting in his unmoving chest made it clear to her that he had long past to the hall of the waiting. The bloodied sword that was dropped beside his bleeding form dramatically showed that in his last moments he had fought hard to defend his own life and his royal liege.   

 

Finally comprehending that they were definitely attacked, all her weary mind could think of was to run. Her tiered legs obeyed her and she fled in the forest.

She could feel the wind as it passed her face. She could hear the sounds of her own sobs, evidence of the tears that she was shedding unknowingly; out of grieve for her slayed kin and out of fear for her own life. She knew she was running the right direction but the palace was hours away. Suddenly she stopped, slipping a few feet. Her mind was responding once more. If she took one of the horses she would reach the palace sooner. However she was not sure if she had the heart to return to the scene.

 

Before she could decide, strong hands grabbed her from the waist. She screamed and twisted to get free. Those hands were not friendly and definitely not safe. She writhed in the firm grip like a captured doe. She could smell the man’s nasty breath, and all his hands told her was that he was going to hurt her.

 

“Easy now, little bird…” the raspy voice said, but it was followed with a loud cry of pain as she buried her dagger in the man’s thigh.

 

His grip on her loosened and gave her enough time to start running again. She heard him call others and it made her run even faster. But when someone appeared in front of her and hit her hard on the head she tripped with her head swinging; and then she fell on the mossy floor of the forest and lost consciousness.

 

***

 

“What’s wrong dearest?”

 

The queen’s voice snapped Thranduil out of his thoughts. He had been standing in the balcony of the royal bedchambers for at least an hour, peering in the dark forest. He didn’t remember why he’d been doing that. But clearly he’d been so deep in thought that he’d not even noticed Leuthil’s entrance to the room. This trance happened to him often, especially after the sickness that had befallen his forest. He felt it in his body and mind; every rock in the river, every leaf dancing in the wind, every creature living in his trees. The pain in his palms took his attention and he realized he had been pressing the stone railing and then he remembered why he’s been observing his forest.

 

He had felt something ill, something sick in the woods. But it was different from the usual sickness of his forest that he’s become used to sensing. It was some kind of fear or panic that raised inside him that had nothing to do with his own surroundings. But he could not figure out the source nor the reason.

 

“Thranduil?”

 

Again the queen’s voice and her gentle hand on his arm snapped him back to reality. He looked down at her. Her blue eyes were filled with concern. Guilt crept in his heart. He had always worried her instead of comforting her. He forced a smile and placed his own hand on hers.

 

“It alright…” he said.

 

“You’re lying…” she declared angrily.

 

“I feel something ill in the forest…” he confessed and looked back in the woods. “Yet I cannot tell what…”

 

Leuthil frowned and pressed his arm. “Perhaps it’s the sickness spreading…”

 

“Perhaps…” the king whispered though he knew that this was something much more serious.

 

He chose to ignore the horrible feeling as he didn’t want to worry his pregnant wife further. He turned completely towards her and smiled.

“The healers said that your morning sickness is getting better…” he said gently, pushing a strand of dark hair out of her face.

 

“Did you talk to my healers behind my back!” she snapped.

 

Thranduil chuckled at her angry tone and instead of answering he hugged her. The flames of anger inside her died out as fast as they had risen and she relaxed into his strong yet gentle hold. He smelled like the pine trees in the spring. This odor had bewitched her from the first day. To her disappointment he broke the embrace and walked to the chamber pulling her hand. She followed him inside.

 

Once they were inside the warm room he released her hand and went to the drawers. She watched attentively as he took out two boxes and walked back to her. He sat on the bed and tapped on the mattress beside him. She complied and sat. He handed him the smaller box.  

 

“I had this made for our child…” he said softly.

 

Her heart leaped. She smiled widely and opened the small box. A simple gold plate lay inside it.

“When we name him, I have the smiths carve his name on it…” he explained.

She merely leaned her head on his shoulder. No words had to be spoken.

 

He took the small box from her and placed the bigger one on her lap.

“This one’s for you...” he said.

 

She frowned and looked at him with surprise.

 

“It’s the custom of the Sindar…” he explained. “The husband should give a gift the mother of his child before she gives birth…”

 

Happiness rose inside her. He always drowned her in the most expensive jewelry and clothes on the face of Arda, but these occasions that he would present her with a gift for a special reason always made her feel exceptional. Now that they were to be blessed with a child, she felt a joy that she had not felt in years by his tenderness.

 

She turned the box and carefully opened it. Her breath hitched by the sight of the ring inside it, adorned by a huge yet simple diamond.  

 

“Thranduil, you didn’t have to…” but her argument was silenced when her lips were captured by his hungry kiss. She moaned from the sudden sensation and opened her mouth slightly, inviting his intrusive tongue.

 

After a few moments he gently broke and stood. Then he pushed her back on the mattress. She complied and lay down, waiting for him to join her. But instead he covered her with the blanket. After fussing to cover all her body he straightened again and smiled fondly at her.

 

“Go to sleep my love…” he whispered.

 

“Will you not join me?” she nagged.

 

“I’m not tiered…” he shook his head.

 

Leuthil knew he was lying. He had known those eyes enough to understand they were longing for a restful sleep. This was the restlessness of the heart that had taken over her beloved. This was about the strange feeling he was experiencing. She knew it. He smiled at her again and after placing a kiss on her forehead he walked back to the balcony again, standing where he’d been standing minutes ago. She watched his tall and strong form for a while, sensing his anxiety. She knew that the king of the woodland realm would not find rest this night, though she did not know what this feeling that was disturbing his heart was. She doubted if even Thranduil himself knew what it was that was chasing his sleep away from his fatigued eyes.

 

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I'm being cruel but...it's just the way it is in the world; bad things happen to good people!!! ;)

Glorfindel looked up in hope of seeing the moon and was disappointed. The tall trees of Greenwood did not let the light of the full moon reach them from between their leaves and branches. The lord of the golden flower did not like this. It made him feel claustrophobic. They had only reached the borders of Mirkwood and already he could feel the lack of air. The lord turned towards the soldiers. If someone did not know they were the legions of Imlardis they would probably think they were survivors of a fatal battle. They looked like a defeated army. Scattered, tiered and wasted.

 

“We’ll set camp here…” he commanded.

 

***

 

Her screams cut through the night, yet it seemed that there were no ears in the forest to hear them. The heavy hand burned her face with yet another hard slap. She had noticed three pairs of hands touching her but could no more distinguish them. All that she knew was that they were filthy and they brought her pain and shame.

 

A hand was pressing on her lips to keep her mouth shut. It served to muffle her horrified screams that would’ve otherwise awakened the entire realm. At first they had been out of fear as she had tried in vain to escape them and their lustful objectives. But now it was out of pain; the unbearable agony that flashed up her body from between her bloodied thighs with each lustful thrust of each filthy manhood.

 

She had lost count on how many times they had ravished her. Every time she had thought it to be finally over, again another shaft had pierced her abused body in two. She could no longer hear their insults; the words that she knew no royal born would probably hear in the long years of their protected lives. However the words and insults were the best part of the horrifying endless night.

 

Who was ever a princess? Who wore those luxurious clothes and walked the royal gardens of the royal palace? Who was ever the cherished treasure of the Elvenking? She could not remember. She was not her, not anymore. She was merely a tool, for them to sate their lust. She had fought though, she knew it. She had tried so hard for her honor. But now there was nothing left…no honor, no dignity, and no hope…she merely wished that they would kill her soon as she knew they intended to.

 

Another blow to her face flipped her on her stomach. Even in her dizziness she shuddered from the thought of the worst part of her experience that was yet to begin again. She tried to move away, clawing in the soil in a futile attempt. Boots appeared in front of her and then a strong hand grabbed her hair as another set of hands pulled back by her rear.

 

With the strong hold on her hair the man in front of her pulled her head up so that his shaft was in front of her face. She pulled her head away with the last strength she had left but when the other one forced himself inside her tighter entrance she could not suppress the cry of agony that escaped her and owned her another blow in her stomach. It gave the other man just the time to force himself down her abused throat for the hundredth time that night.

 

Again she found withdrawing into her mind easier than feeling all that was happening to her. Her mind flew to her home, which was not far but seemed miles away and so unreachable. The only males that had ever touched her were her father and brother. Those touches were always tender and kind and they never brought pain or shame.

 

What would have Oropher said if he knew his only daughter was defiled like this? What would Thranduil think of his dishonorable sister? He would probably rather she had died honorably instead of shaming their name…and then there was Galdor. The one she loved and could not forget even in this state. He had thought Miklovand to have touched her all those years ago, and he was ready to give up on her. What would he do now? Now that she was truly touched and soiled like an animal. Yes ‘an animal’ they had called her. ‘Whore’ they had said. As if she had desired her torment; as if she had asked for it.

 

She felt their stinging warmth pour inside her once more and then seconds after another sting of pain flashed in her body and left her breathless. But this time it was not where it had been all the while she’d been raped. This time it was a horrible pain on her side. She suddenly realized the hands where not on her anymore nor where the unmerciful shafts that had pierced her most private parts. Only the new pain remained. Her shaking hand reached for her side and felt the warmth and wetness of her own blood, flooding out of the wound the men’s dagger had cut deep into her flesh. So they had finally tired of her and had decided to end her miserable life. The pain was too much but at least she knew that she would die soon and all this would be over soon.

 

“Pity that we had to kill you…” she heard the raspy voice say. “You would’ve made a good whore…”

 

She writhed in pain while the men gathered themselves. Then she heard their heavy footsteps; so different from the light paces of her kin. And after a while there was only silence and pain.

 

As her precious blood left her, she felt her body gradually get cold. But she did not care. Nothing mattered anymore. With open arms she welcomed her death; if it would just show her mercy and claim her miserable life. The forest around her was in a deadly silence but strangely she could hear the trees’ lament for her.

 

Her vision was blurring and she felt cold; so cold. Her clothes were torn and there was nothing left from the green tunic she’d been wearing only hours ago. She desperately wanted something to cover herself with; to cover her nakedness and shame from the rest of the world. But she didn’t even have the strength for that. Her head turned and the forest around her blurred into her unconsciousness.

 

***

 

Galdor had been lying on his bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. He knew that soon morning would come and he would have to begin another day with a tired mind and an exhausted body. But sleep would not come to him as his mind was working frantically to process the day’s events.

 

Her words echoed in his head. ‘Coward’ she had called him. It had stung him to the very core. But despite the irritation from her unmerciful accusation he knew that she was partly right. He had delayed too much, and he had to act fast or he would lose his beloved forever. The steward knew well that the king was thinking much more about his sister these days; and soon Thranduil would find a perfect match for her if he did not act fast.

 

On the other hand his mind was occupied with the things Miklovand had said. His words had also burned him, though in a different manner. In his heart the steward believed Aleth, but it did not serve to lessen his anger. The picture of them together would not leave his mind.

 

Galdor sighed and sat on his bed, holding his head in his hands. He could feel his own pulse on his throbbing head. Perhaps if he would put out the candles he would find rest.

 

His feet had not touched the wooden floor that a strong knocking on the door made him jump.

“Galdor…Galdor, open up!”

 

He had heard the king’s voice enough during the years to know that he was in a state of either anger or concern. Galdor knew that it was hours past midnight and the midnight visit from Thranduil startled him deeply.

 

“Galdor, please…open the door…”

 

Thranduil seemed desperate and so the steward jumped for the handle and opened the door fast. Thranduil pushed past him and entered the room. Galdor scanned him. The king was still in his boots and the velvet green tunic he had been wearing during the day. His hair was messy in the front as if he had clawed in his golden strands and his eyes were wide with fear.

 

“Aleth’s not in…” Thranduil explained rapidly.

 

“What?” Galdor asked, his heart sinking in his chest. His mind wasn’t responding well. 

 

“I went to her room, I had them check everywhere. She’s not here!!!” the king suddenly yelled desperately. “And something’s terribly wrong in the forest Galdor…I can feel it!”

 

Galdor hesitated a few seconds. Thranduil truly looked awful. Droplets of sweat were lingering on his forehead and his body was shaking. Despite the fact that the steward was beginning to worry he knew that the king was losing his mind in his worried state and he needed to cool him.

 

“I’ll send more people to look for her…” the steward said calmly.

 

“She’s not in the palace Galdor…” the king cried, shaking Galdor by his shoulders. “I could not sleep. I could feel something foul in the forest…I could hear screams, like they were in my head…” the king explained, tears filling his eyes. “Then I went to her room…She’s not here Galdor!!!”

 

“The princess left the palace with three sentries in the afternoon…” Galdor said in bitter realization that he had no news of her afterwards.

Because of his broken heart and injured pride he had not gone to ask the guards at the gate if the princess had returned. An iron hand gripped his heart as guilt crawled in his mind. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to her. He would die…

 

“The guards said that they have not returned yet…” the king’s horrified voice took him out of his thoughts. Then Thranduil sank down to the ground on Galdor’s feet, as if his knees had lost strength. “Please, Galdor…help me!”

 

Galdor knew the connection Thranduil had with the forest. He had watched how the king felt everything going on in the trees as if it was happening inside him. He had even seen how Thranduil became restless when something foul happened in the woods. But this much anxiety, he had not ever seen in his king. Thranduil was literally begging him for help in a very unkingly manner. He leaned and grabbed his shaking shoulder’s lifting him up from the floor and seating him on the bed.

 

“I’ll gather the council…” the steward explained as he ran for his clothes. “Do not fret… We’ll find her.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are highly appreciated...


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was short but I hope you enjoy all the same!

It had started raining just an hour ago. The cold drops fell on their tunics as if the Valar were pouring buckets of water from the sky above. They left their horses behind when the trees got more cramped. His men were all scattered around the forest; searching. The dark night had little effect on their eyesight. As Thranduil searched frantically among the others his mind raced to all the possibilities that might have occurred to Aleth. The men might have taken her captive, to Galdor’s presumption; in that case he was willing to give everything up just to have her back. They might find her dead, and that was the king’s worst fear. His party had come a long way from the capital and the palace was hours away. But still no sign.

 

Galdor and the queen had failed in keeping Thranduil in place. No matter how much the steward had reasoned with him, he wasn’t capable of sitting in his palace and waiting passively. ‘You might be their true target…’ Galdor had told him, but he did not care. Thranduil had accused his friend at the heat of the moment then, telling him that he was the one insisting on the merchants to stay a few days because it was more proper. He knew that talking to his right hand like that in front of everyone was not appropriate but the life of his sister was now in question and he could not control his nerves.

 

Galdor was not with him now. He had gone to another direction on his left as Miklovand had gone to his right with his legion. Both of the lords seemed desperate to find her. He had watched Miklovand yelling at his men for coming back empty handed. And he had seen the look on Galdor’s face. He had watched the guilt there. For some reason the steward had not checked the patrols for Aleth’s return and he blamed himself for that. Thranduil also blamed him. And no matter how much he tried to calm himself the king just couldn’t have stopped himself from exploding in his face while they were in the throne room and hour before.  

 

Others had taken the bodies of the guards back to the palace. Thranduil had seen them, and it was that scene that had made him ignore his wife’s and his friend’s warnings and run into the forest himself.

The sentries were butchered mercilessly. The thought that his sister might be slain like that made him shudder.

 

 

When the sound of a horn echoed in the woods, Thranduil’s heart missed a beat. He ran towards the sound, ignoring the others following him. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest. They reached a clearing and the others who were behind him gradually slowed down to let the king go on alone. He heard screams; and he knew Aleth’s voice better to mistake it with anyone else. Relief washed over him.

 

“DON’T TOUCH ME…!”

 

“My lady…”

 

“DON’T TOUCH ME…PLEASE!!!”

 

Hearing her cries he fastened his pace and reached Galdor who had stopped trying to get to Aleth who was screaming and crawling away from him. Thranduil’s eyes darted on the figure on the forest floor. Her clothes were torn revealing the pale skin and the horrible bruises on her once flawless body. Dried blood had dyed her thighs and legs and warm fresh blood poured out of a wound on her side. Despite the pain and her battered body she clawed in the soil to pull herself away from the steward, who instinctively had tried to reach out to her and help her out of her miserable state. Now Galdor merely stood there, unable to take his sorrowful and shocked look off the wrecked princess.  

 

Thranduil was first to gain back his self-control and ran to her. She tried to move away but with all those wounds he was faster and he took her into his embrace. At first she tried to move away like a wild wounded animal but hearing her brother’s voice and feeling his familiar touch she calmed.

 

“Shshsh, it’s me, no-one will hurt you…” he said tenderly as he pulled her tighter to himself.

 

“Thranduil…you came…” Aleth whispered and clenched the king’s tunic with his weak hands.

 

Galdor watched as the princess relaxed into her brother’s embrace. The steward was too shocked to think of anything else. She had run away from him as if he would hurt her and in her state she had only accepted Thranduil’s touch. There was no doubt about what had happened to her. The assault on her innocence was clear. But she was also deadly wounded and that was the more urgent matter for her lover.

 

Galdor jumped out of his trance and ran for a blanket and handed it to Thranduil while he shouted for healers. As the king wrapped her in the blanket as the steward ran for his horse and pulled him closer so the king and Aleth could mount easier. He somehow found busying himself easier than watching his beloved fade in her brother’s arms.  

 

***

 

Gorsh found it difficult to keep up with the adults as he was ordered to pull the horses with him as well and their slow mounts also found it hard to walk through the tree roots.

As he walked behind the other two his mind drifted back to the events that had happened only hours past. He shuddered from the memory of the she-elf that was probably dead by now. He had heard tales that elves often died from grief when something like that happened to them, but in any case Konam had made her death certain with that dagger he had buried on her side. The young one pitied the girl though he did not know her personally. He could still hear her pitiful screams and the picture of her begging them to kill her still lingered in his mind. Gorsh had never had a woman before but he doubted if the women in his village were as beautiful and fragile as she was. He had watched as Konam and Turkan had beaten her and then they had torn her clothes to have access to her most private parts. Gorsh had never thought that his first carnal encounter with women would be raping a she-elf. It had been an enjoyable experience to watch and feel her body as she writhed and screamed when all three of them had taken their share together but he had to confess that it didn’t look like a good thing to do to anyone, and most definitely to a girl from a royal family.

 

He didn’t know the Elvenking; he had not even had a glance of him during their stay in Mirkwood. But all his life he had heard tales of him. They said he is made of light and stardust and he’s the most beautiful male the Gods have created. The real merchants in his village that had seen the Elvenking said that there are wolves hidden in his eyes, and if they see you they tear you apart. They said that he’s very tall and he’s capable of fighting with twin swords. The tales said that he’s brutal and unmerciful with the ones who disobey him and he hangs their heads from the city walls. The older men said that he’s very possessive and keeps his womenfolk locked away on the highest tower of his mysterious palace, so no-one can touch them; just like his treasures and gems. Such a king was unlikely to let them live if he would catch them and Gorsh completely understood the anxiety that had taken over his companions and the haste they were making to reach the borders of the Woodland.

 

“Just a few hours…” he heard Turkan mumble under his breath. “And we’re out of this forsaken forest…the Elf-king will not reach us out of his land.”

 

Gorsh found a tingle of hope in his heart and it made him walk faster, pulling the tiered mounts with more force. But Konam who was the eldest among them seemed grim as they were far behind their plan. The sun was rising and the forest was gradually waking. They could clearly feel how the trees tried to stop their advancements. There seemed to be more roots on the ground and they seemed to be standing high above the forest floor to make their walking harder. The branches had come down and it hit them on the face from time to time and to their fear they heard whispers in the forest. They could not understand the hisses the trees made but they could definitely know that their tone was angered.

 

A crack in the woods made Konam come to a sudden halt. He pulled out his sword as the other reached him and his brown eyes searched the woods for the source of the early morning disturbance. The three dared not breathe as they scanned the cramped forest around them frantically. Even their horses did not make a sound.

 

“The trees do not like you…” a voice from behind them said.

 

The three men turned towards the source hastily, with their swords drawn. A few feet away from them stood an elf. He was slender and his tight black leather tunic manifested his powerful body. His blond hair was loose and he had his bow stretched and ready; aiming towards them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like my stupid story this far...


	42. Chapter 42

It was almost an hour that Thranduil was pacing the width of the corridor behind the doors of the healing chambers. His brow was tied, making a long deep line from his eyebrows up to his noble forehead. His eyes were dark with sorrow, anger, and revenge. Despite the grief and hurt that had befallen them he kept his back straight, not wanting to show any weakness.

 

Galdor stood with him as he always did. Unlike the king, he was leaning on a stone pillar, his head dropped. The lump in his throat was killing him. He wanted nothing more than to run into the forest and cry out loud. He could feel every single weary beat of his heart.

 

He always blamed Thranduil for his hot temper when it came to the women he loved; whether it was his mother, sister or wife. He always thought that the king acted harshly and thought little when it came down to the ladies under his protection. But now the steward himself felt a possessiveness he had never felt so intensely before. His entire body hurt, in anger and in grief. The filthy men had touched and almost killed his girl and he wanted nothing but revenge; he lusted for blood. The worst part of his torment was that he could not show a single sign of how grievous he was or Thranduil would easily know of their secret. All he needed right now was for the fuming king to know of his affair when he was on the peak of his foul mood. Thranduil would easily chop off Galdor’s head along with the merchants.

 

After an hour of waiting the doors of the healing chambers opened and the queen came out, closing the doors behind her. Thranduil approached her hastily and tried to pass her to get to the door but with a hand on her husband’s chest Leuthil stopped him from advancing further. His burning aquamarine eyes pierced her.

 

“I want to see her…” he demanded firmly.

 

“She’s finally sleeping…” she said. “Do not disturb the healing reverie she needs so much.”

 

Galdor found himself admiring the queen, for she had true courage to reason with the king in that state. Thranduil opened his mouth to argue but the queen interrupted him before he began.

 

“All she needs is prying eyes upon her.” she said. “Let her be for now…”

 

At first it seemed that the king would argue further but then he nodded. His eyes shook and with aquamarine orbs drowning in unshed tears he looked up at his wife again.

 

“How is she…?” he whispered shakily.

 

Leuthil seemed to be lost for words. She just darted her eyes on anything she could find, trying to avoid her husband’s intense gaze, as if she was ashamed of saying the truth.

 

“I am not daft Leuthil…” the king growled after seeing her hesitance. “I know what I saw…I know what they’ve done to her…Now tell me!”

 

The firmness of Thranduil’s voice finally made her look up at him; the tears that she had suppressed running down her face.

 

“How do you expect her to be?” she said in a hardly audible tone. “They’ve ruined her…”

 

Thranduil sighed as he ran his large hands on his face, trying to suppress his own tears.

“Her wounds?” he asked.

 

“She’ll heal…” the queen said. “Luckily these men knew nothing of elfish healing or they would’ve tried a more deadly weapon to kill her.”

 

“I will cut their crotch and feed it to them!” Thranduil suddenly declared.

 

Before he could say more of his plans the sound of footsteps approaching made the king turn. Miklovand reached them with soaked tunic and hair and lowered his head for Thranduil.

 

“Have you found anything?” Thranduil asked before he could say anything.

 

“Not yet…” the captain shook his head.

 

“Then what the fuck are you doing in the palace when you should be out seeking the men?!” the king snapped, making the captain’s eyes grow wide.

 

“I…I just wanted to…see if she’s alright…” Miklovand stuttered.

 

Thranduil went closer and towered above him. The king’s anger was radiating when he grabbed Miklovand’s tunic and pulled the captain to himself so he could speak in his ear.

 

“Go and continue your search before I break out my anger on you…” he whispered in a dangerously calm voice.

 

Miklovand’s eyes darted around, hesitating on each of them for a few seconds. Then he bowed to the king who had released his tunic and left.

 

Knowing of his old affair with the princess, the queen felt sorry for the captain but she couldn’t linger on the matter long as Thranduil turned to Galdor.

 

“Fetch my horse…” he ordered. “We’ll join the search…I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

 

For the first time that night Galdor lifted his head, still avoiding the king’s gaze.

“Yes my king…” he said in a raspy voice as he turned to leave for the order.

 

“Have you been crying?!”

 

Thranduil’s voice made him freeze in midway. There was no mockery in the king’s tone, and no suspicion. But still the steward felt drums in his chest when he turned towards his king revealing red swollen eyes.

 

Thranduil scanned Galdor for a few seconds, just like someone who is studying the growth of a rare plant. Galdor looked wrecked; as if he had been run over by an army of a thousand horsemen.  

 

“Good…” the king said finally, as if he enjoyed his friend’s sadness. “I would’ve cried as well if I had been so careless.”

 

Galdor could swear he heard something break inside him as Thranduil breathed loudly again and passed him to get to the stables. For a few seconds he just couldn’t move or do anything until he felt the queen’s gentle touch on his arm. He lifted his feverish eyes to look at her blue ones that were as red and swollen as his own.

 

“He’s angry and sorrowful…” Leuthil said. “He’ll forgive you…”

 

Galdor sighed and straightened his back while he wiped his face with his palm. Then he looked up at Leuthil again.

“But I will never forgive myself…” he said firmly before lowering his head for the queen and then walking away to join Thranduil in the stables.

***

 

The elf scanned them with his blue eyes and then slowly to the men’s surprise he lowered his weapon. Clearly this particular elf did not know what they had done for if he had he would’ve killed them right away. He’s friendly gesture made the men lower their swords as well.

 

“What are you doing in the Elvenking’s forest?” the elf asked approaching them with lazy steps.

 

“We…we…” Konam stammered. “We are merchants…”

 

The elf raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Konam was used to that icy look on the elves faces when they did not trust someone. Somehow this blond elf had an innate authority that the men instinctively felt they were bound to answer his questions.  

 

“The palace is that way, if you wish to negotiate with the Elvenking!” another voice from behind them said, which made the men jump and turn.

 

They realized that they were surrounded with 5 other elves, dressed in silver and red warrior uniforms. Turkan and Grosh were shocked on how so many elves had sneaked up on them without making a sound, but Konam who was older and wiser was thinking of other things. He had come and gone to the Woodland enough to know that the uniform of the royal guard as well as their army was green; resembling the leaves of their homeland. These elves were from another realm for sure and that gave them an advantage. Perhaps they could find a chance to get away, using their lack of knowledge.

 

“Yes we know, we’ve been there. Now we’re returning to our homeland.” Konam said, trying to sound casual.

 

“I guess your deal was not closed with the royal palace…” the first elf said, pointing at the full sacs on the men’s horses.

 

“No, My lord…” Konam answered and chuckled uneasily. “The Elvenking is hard to please…”

 

The elf chuckled as well, which made two small holes appear on his cheeks. But the men did not notice it since there were too anxious to get away from this group of soldiers that seemed not to know of what they had done.   

 

“Where are you headed?” the blond elf asked easily.

 

Konam hesitated for a second, not really knowing what to say. But then he stuttered the answer.

“The Brown land, my lord…” he said forcing a smile.

 

For a few moments the elf scanned them with cold emotionless eyes, but then he smiled as well, showing perfect teeth; very unlike those in Konam’s mouth.

 

“Have a nice journey sir!” he said.

 

Relief washed over the men. They grabbed their horses and turned to leave in disbelief.

“You too my lord…” Konam said politely.

 

The other elves stood aside for them to pass and they walked under their piercing gazes. Just as they thought they had passed the last once, the voice of the blond elf cut through the air once more.

 

“Wait…”

 

They froze where they stood and the blond went closer this time with long firm steps. The men noticed how the other raven head elves reached for their swords as they had sensed suspicion in the blond elf’s voice.

 

The elf who seemed to be the commander reached for one of their horses and leaned to touch its left leg. Instinctively the horse lifted his leg to the commander’s touch, revealing traces of blood on its white skin; as if a bloodied hand had gripped the horse’s leg. 

 

 

“Did you have a quarrel in the woodland sir?” the blond asked, still sitting on his knees.

 

It took Konam a few seconds to answer.

“Of course not sire…” he forced a chuckle. “The beast is probably injured by some branch!”

 

Neither Konam nor the other two knew that just by touching the dried blood, the blond had noticed that the crimson substance belonged to his kin.

Slowly the commander rose to his feet and smiled at the merchants, which made them relax to some extent. Then he turned towards his companions that seemed ready for his order.

 

“Seize them…” he said simply.

 

***

 

It was hours past sunrise, but the woods were still dark since the dark clouds were still above, flooding them with heavy spring rain. With the hood of his cloak covering his face from the cold drops, Thranduil walked through the trees cautiously, trying hard not to make a sound. He had separated from his companions a while ago so that they could cover more land in their search for the men. Though he knew that the rest of his sentries were close, he felt horribly alone. It was more a loneliness of the heart, than a physical aloneness. After years of independence he felt the need of someone to guide him; the need for a parent to tell him what to do.     

 

What would his mother say if she knew Aleth had been hurt like this? What would Oropher do if he knew Thranduil had failed to protect his one and only daughter?

_“You are irresponsible and weak…”_ his father’s voice echoed in his head. _“You are a failure!”_

 Thranduil shivered. He had blamed Galdor so mercilessly; but in his heart he knew that the fault was no others but his own. He had been careless; he had been blind.

_“You are close…”_

 

The sound of the trees made him petrified. The elves could sense the trees’ feelings but Thranduil knew no other who could hear them talk; but himself. But after all these years it still startled him.

His heart beat rose and he could feel hot blood run in his veins.

 

_“He’s there…”_

 

The excitement in his heart was almost killing him. The trees knew where the humans were and they were leading him. Thranduil took out an arrow from his quiver and loaded it in his bow while he hid behind a trunk.

 

He picked his head enough to have a glimpse of the hooded figure among the trees. He had expected to see three men out there but found only one. The fellow had his back on him and had clearly not sensed his presence. Thranduil’s delicate fingers played with the feathers on the edge of the arrow. His breath was captivated in his lungs. All his muscles were tensed; eyes never leaving his unknown enemy.

 

Taking a deep breath he slowly came out of his hiding place, his bow loaded and aiming at the hooded figure. With a few long paces he closed the distance so that the pointy edge of his arrow was brushing against the man’s back.

 

“Put up your hands…” the king said firmly. “And don’t even think about your weapons…”

 

With a slight hesitation the man obeyed, lifting his gloved hands. In his state of anxiety Thranduil noticed the high quality of the fabric used in those black gloves. But he didn’t linger on the matter much.

 

“Turn around…” he ordered.

 

The hooded figure obeyed, and slowly he turned towards him. The hood of the cloak had covered half his face so that only his mouth and nose were visible. But just as he turned he gasped at the sight of the king.

 

“King Thranduil!!!” he inhaled, startled.

 

Thranduil frowned but did not move an inch, nor did he lower his bow. His arrow was still only inches away from the man’s face.

The hooded figure reached for his hood and dropped it, revealing long blond hair and a rather fair elven face.

 

“My lord!!!” Thranduil gasped, immediately lowering his bow by the sight of Glorfindel.

 

“You have some problem recognizing your friends from foes, Elvenking!” The lord smirked.

 

Thranduil did not like the sting in his voice but decided to ignore it as there were much more important matters on his mind.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked unceremoniously.

 

“I’m leading the legions you had asked from Lord Elrond…” Glorfindel explained as he put back his hood again. “The rain was too much, so we camped just inside your borders.”

 

Thranduil nodded absentmindedly and ran a hand through his soaked hair. The lord of the golden flower watched the king, scanning how restless he seemed.

 

“How did you sneak up on me?” Glorfindel asked. “I didn’t even hear you!”

 

“I know how to sneak up on strangers in my own lands better than the Imladrians I think!” Thranduil shot back revengefully.

 

“But I was surprised to find no guards sneaking on us at your borders…” the lord asked with a smirk.

 

“They were all called to the capital last night…” Thranduil explained. “For an emergency situation.”

 

Glorfindel raised his brown eyebrows.

“Is everything alright with you?” he asked. “Your forest seemed tense as well…And you’re all alone in the middle of the woods, unprotected!”

 

“There are others scattered in the woods…” Thranduil said impatiently. “We are looking for three men. They claimed to be merchants but…”

 

“But?!” Glorfindel urged him to continue when the king ran out of words for a few seconds.

 

“They have taken something from me!” Thranduil finally said. “Something valuable!”

 

Glorfindel scanned the Elvenking again, and then he smiled.

“You are lucky…” he said.

 

Thranduil gazed at him with sharp eyes and then he frowned in confusion. The lord of the Golden flower was clearly testing his patience with his calmness.

 

“I think I have your merchants, Elvenking!” Glorfindel explained with mirth.

 

 

 


	43. Chapter 43

The king of Greenwood was a steaming mass of hatred, sorrow and revenge when he finally gathered himself and descended the stairs which lead to the dark and damp dungeons of his palace. Those cells were rarely used, but Oropher had them built just in case they would be needed. Thranduil bet that his father would’ve never imagined his daughter’s rapists to be residents of those chambers.

 

Galdor was standing at one of the three wooden doors that lead to each cell at the end of the dim corridor. The dancing light from the torches showed his deep frown and disgusted features. The sound of beating, cursing and cries continued through the night as it had continued through the hours of the day. Surprisingly, Thranduil found that those horrible sounds did not bother him at all. In fact he had to admit that the sound of the drops of water that fell from the ceiling from time to time made him more annoyed than the dreadful screams from the cells.

 

“Have they said anything?!” the king asked when he reached the steward.

 

“Yes sire…” he said. “The younger ones said that they had been paid to assassinate the princess…”

 

Thranduil’s brow tied and Galdor continued.

“They said that they had never seen the person, who had paid them, for the older one; Konam, has done all the dealings.” He said. “And the one called Konam has not said a word…”

 

“He will say…” Thranduil said firmly as he pointed for Galdor to open the wooden door.

 

It took Thranduil’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dark cell as he entered. Alheru and Daitrid were towering above a huddled figure on the floor. The man was covered in bruises and blood and from where the king was standing, his arm was definitely broken. He moaned and raised his head slightly from the sound of the door opening. His eyes were locked on the king for a second before Alheru grabbed his shirt and resumed beating him with Daitrid’s help. The man cried in agony and squirmed from the blows but still he said nothing.

 

Sickeningly watching the man’s torment pleasured Thranduil in some twisted way. The way his body writhed and the sound of his painful cries and pleads for mercy planted a disgusting joy in the king’s weary heart and it was with great effort that he finally raised his hand for the lords to stop the torture for a moment. Alheru leaned and grabbed Konam’s hair, lifting his head with force so he would face the king. The man’s dark eyes found Thranduil’s.

 

“Care to tell us who paid you to do this…?” the king said calmly.

 

The man snickered, showing his rotten bloodied teeth, that some were broken from the blows he had received on the mouth. The mocking laughter made the blood boil in Alheru’s veins and he pulled the man’s hair forcefully.

 

“Answer the question filth!” he yelled. “The king of Greenwood is standing before you!”

 

“I know who he is!” the man said in a raspy tone, still snickering; his eyes fixed on Thranduil. “The rumors have not done justice in describing your beauty Elvenking…” he said turning his attention completely towards the king. “You’re even prettier than your sister; I wonder if you’d writhe as sweetly as she did under me.”

 

Everything happened in the same time. Alheru pulled the man’s head back with his left hand and raised his right hand to punch his face. Galdor took a step forward to attack the man and possibly kill him. But Thranduil was faster than both of them. Before any of them could react to the insults, the king’s hand was locked around Konam’s throat and with an incredible force Thranduil lifted the heavy man from the floor and hit his back hard on the stone wall.

 

The king’s anger was radiating and it made the others stand back. His eyes were red with rage, and the vein in his forehead had popped out dangerously. His iron grip on the man’s throat was suffocating the mortal. Konam turned red as he tried in vain to release himself from the king’s hand, then he turned a dark purple and instinctively his mouth opened for air.

 

“Tell me who paid you, and I will spare you a quick death…” Thranduil whispered in the man’s ear.

 

In that state Konam merely nodded his head and slowly the king loosened his grip dropping him on the floor at his feet. The man gasped for air and coughed a long time as Thranduil waited patiently. Then the king leaned over him, bringing his golden head close to the mortal’s.

 

“Well!?” he encouraged.

 

Konam raised his head to face the Elvenking. Instead of answering, he spat in Thranduil’s face which made the king turn away from him rapidly and make a sound of disgust. Daitrid ran to the king to hand him a piece of cloth to clean the mess of saliva and blood from his face, as Galdor and Alheru attacked the man with their booted feet. Their anger from how the man had insulted their king was clear in their wholehearted blows and the curses they granted the mortal. However the sound of the blade being pulled out of its cover made them both still.

When they turned they saw that Thranduil had taken out his dagger, the one that he had inherited from his father. The king’s surface was calm but there was fire in his eyes.

 

“Hold him…” he ordered. “He’ll talk when I cut that filthy worm between his legs.”

 

It was amazing how the man panicked and tried to crawl away from them, but the three lords were faster in obeying their king. Immediately Alheru and Galdor grabbed the man’s arms and pinned him to the ground.

 

“No please…” he cried as he kicked his legs. “You can’t do this…please…”

 

Thranduil merely watched as Daitrid grabbed the man’s feet. Then slowly he sat next to the mortal’s twisting body and started unlacing the man’s breeches; Konam’s pleas echoing in the small room.

 

“You writhe sweetly!” Thradnuil chuckled as he took out the man’s now soft manhood and placed the dagger there.

 

Sensing the cold blade the man burst into tears.

“Please, don’t do this…I’ll tell you everything.”

 

Thranduil’s lips curved on one corner as he removed the blade slowly and waited for the man to calm. With his eyes the king indicated to the lords not to let Konam move from how he was pinned to the floor. He did not miss the horrified looks they exchanged with one another.

 

“It was a she-elf bitch…” the man panted, his chest heaving. “She lives in East Bight among the humans…”

 

The man’s eyes rolled to sides in panic and he hesitated a few seconds before Alehru shook him hard.

“She lives in a cottage at the edge of the land where no Elven troop can reach her but she is also far enough from the men’s villages…” he continued. “She paid us each eight hundred gold coins to kill Greenwood’s princess…”

 

“Who is this elleth?” Thranduil asked. “What’s her name?”

 

“Malin they call her… but I’m not sure if it’s her real name…” the man said desperately. “She has black hair and green eyes, but I don’t know her true name, she never said it.”

 

“Thank you…” Thranduil said with a warm smile. Seeing the Elvenking’s calm face made the man relax a bit, thinking that the king will show mercy upon him because of the information. But in a blink of an eye the king grabbed his dagger with one hand and the man’s shaft with the other and dethatched the organ from the mortal.

 

It took Konam a few seconds to realize what had happened to him. His eyes widened as it darted from Thranduil’s bloodied face and hands to his own shaft that the king threw to a corner as if it was a disgusting insect. Just as he realized the truth and the agony in the same time, his dreadful screams made the elves in the room deaf. He writhed in pain as the lords let go of his hands and feet and blood flooded from where his manhood once was.

 

The lords merely stood there and watched as the man twisted in agony in front of them. None of them had the will to move, none of them had the courage to question Thranduil’s act. Their shock from the king’s violence had petrified them.

 Galdor was the first one to gain back his control as his eyes darted from the writhing screaming figure to Thranduil, who was standing a few steps back watching the man with pure pleasure in his wild eyes. Crimson blood had dyed the king’s face, hands and clothes and he still held the dagger in his shaking hand. Galdor finally found the strength to move and he approached Thranduil rapidly.

 

“Thranduil…Are you…” he started but he was interrupted by the king’s dangerously calm tone.

 

“Bring the other two…” he ordered as he wiped away the blood from his face using his sleeves.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor started to reason with him but when those aquamarine eyes met his he fell silent from the rage and violence that was burning in them. 

 

“All must know what happens to those that hurt my loved ones…” the king said firmly. “The other two will suffer the same fate…”

 

When he saw Galdor’s hesitance, he grabbed the steward’s tunic with his blood soaked hand.

 

“BRING THEM!!!” he yelled.

 

***

 

Leuthil was happy when Aleth did not resist her touch. She hadn’t been able to tolerate the touch of anyone for a long time. She had screamed and begged them to stop when healers had tried to tend to her wounds. When they had ignored her pleas just like the men, she had found falling into numbness easier, and with the effect of the poppy milk she had fallen sleep. But now she sat on the edge of the tub passively, letting the queen wash her battered body tenderly. She couldn’t feel Leuthil’s hands on her skin, or the sensation of the cloth wiping over her form gently, she didn’t even feel the warm water being poured on her weary head. All she could feel was pain, sorrow and hate. Despite the many times Leuthil had told her that she was clean, Aleth still could smell the scent of strangers on her skin and she could still feel their filthy hands.

The princess felt Leuthil leave for a moment but she returned quickly with clean towels and wrapped it around her protectively.

 

“There…” she said kindly. “You’re as clean as one can be…”

 

Aleth did not answer but merely followed Leuthil’s stretched hand as she pointed at some folded clothes on a stool in front of the mirror.

 

“I brought clean night robes…” she said. “You think you can manage on your own while I change the sheets?”

 

Aleth nodded and watched as the queen left the bathing chambers.

Leuthil started changing the bloodied sheets on a fast track, replacing them with clean ones that the servants had placed behind the door. She had forbidden anyone from entering the room while the princess was healing.

As she stretched the fabric along the bed her mind drifted to Thranduil. She hadn’t seen him for almost a day, nor had she seen Galdor around. She had heard from the servants that the men were caught and if she knew Thranduil enough, he was probably in the dungeons _dealing_ with them. Her heart flew to him. Although the main pain was Aleth’s to suffer, Leuthil knew how the guilt for not being able to protect the princess would eat Thranduil from inside. Galdor was also in a horrible situation. Everything had so suddenly turned ugly.

The sharp scream made the queen jump and before she could react, Aleth jumped out of the bathing chamber and ran straight to her embrace, screaming and crying.

 

“They’re in there…” she cried. “Leuthil…they are all in there…”

 

“Who?”

 

“Those men…” she screamed. And then she buried her face in Leuthil’s chest, like a child hiding from a ghost.

 

After holding her for a few seconds Leuthil slowly released her and walked to the bathing chamber, leaving Aleth trembling in her place. She stood in the middle of the room and looked back at the princess who had at least managed to change to her night robes.

 

“There’s no-one here Aleth…” she said firmly yet tenderly.

 

Then slowly the queen walked back to the chamber and embraced the shaking princess tightly. Aleth sobbed for a long while before Leuthil gently lay her down on the freshly changed bed, helping her settle on the pillow. Each movement elicited a hiss of pain from the princess until she was comfortably seated leaning on the headboard.

Leuthil wiped away her tears and sat next to her on the bed, taking her hand in hers.

 

“No-one’s going to hurt you Aleth” she said and then she looked up in those aquamarine eyes and wondered for the thousandth time on how similar they were to Thranduil’s, just not that piercing. “They’ve found your attackers…”

 

Aleth’s eyes grew wide and she seized her sobs. Leuthil smiled and continued. “Thranduil is dealing with them…”

 

By the mere mention of Thranduil’s name Aleth started crying again, hiding her face under her palms.

“He’ll never want to see me again…” she sobbed quietly. “I’ve shamed him.”

 

“Aleth…” Leuthil called firmly as she reached to take Aleth’s hands in hers. “Please, do not blame yourself for something that was out of your hands.”

 

“I should’ve fought harder…” the princess kept crying. “I should’ve done something…”

 

Leuthil opened her mouth to argue further but no words of comfort reached her. She was desperate and she had to admit that there was no way to comfort the ruined princess. The knock on the door seized her search for a soothing sentence and she rose angrily to see who had dared to disturb them. Aleth instinctively covered herself to her chin with the blankets.

 

“Galdor!” Leuthil breathed, surprised and yet happy to see the steward in the doorway.

 

He looked awful. He was messy and tired with dark circles under his eyes. But his eyes showed how alert he was and had been during the night. He didn’t say a word but merely lowered his head slightly for the queen.

His demeanor left no place for argument and he entered the room as Leuthil stepped aside.

Aleth gathered herself and sat as straight as she could, but she kept her gaze away, looking at the carpet instead of Galdor who was standing in the middle of her room scanning her with no restraint.

 

“My lady…” Galdor called the queen with his eyes still on Aleth. “His majesty is in his chambers, you’d better go to him.”

 

“Is he alright…?” Leuthil asked, suddenly becoming worried by the tone in Galdor’s voice.

 

The steward turned slightly towards her and by that look in his eyes the queen knew all she needed to know. She darted her gaze from Galdor to Aleth. Sensing her hesitance in leaving the princess Galdor turned towards her completely.  

 

“I’ll watch over our princess for a while…” he assured. “Go my lady, Thranduil needs you.”

 

Leuthil nodded and rushed out of the chamber.

 

Galdor closed the door behind her and closed the distance between the door and the bed with lazy steps, sitting at the foot of the bed. It took all the will in the world for Aleth not to jump out of the bed and run away, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the male being so close to her. Galdor seemed not to have felt her discomfort for he sat there for a long time in silence, not even looking at her. Then he just held his head in his hands leaning his elbows on his thighs.

 

For a moment Aleth forgot the horrible events and merely watched the steward. Despite his messy, unclean state, he looked so beautiful to her. And all she could think of was how much she loved him. Then the thoughts returned to him and grief pressed her heart again by remembering how close they had been to happiness and how she had lost him now.

 

“This is the end then…” she whispered.

 

Galdor lifted his head and searched her eyes with a questioning look in his brown orbs.

“What do mean dearest?” he asked gently.

 

Aleth closed her eyes as her tears threatened to flood down her face again. How could he talk to her so tenderly? How could he call her with so much love in his voice? Her heart burned as she knew she did not deserve his devotion. She was not the flawless princess she once was. She was soiled, she was merely a whore to the pleasure of men and she did not deserve to be treated so kindly.

 

“I am defiled…” she said, still successful in suppressing her tears. “You deserve much better…”

 

“Stop talking…” Galdor interrupted sharply as he shut his eyes and shook his head. 

 

“You should leave me be…” Aleth continued. “Find someone whole and pure that deserves your devotion and love.”

 

“ENOUGH!” Galdor said firmly as he pulled himself closer and took her pale hands in his bigger ones.

 

To her surprise though his touch made her uncomfortable she was not disgusted by it. His brown eyes found hers and he frowned.

 

“My love for you will never end…” he said firmly. “Even if the sun rises from the west and the mountains swing like clouds…”

 

Then he reached for his pocket and pulled out a simple silver ring and showed it to her.

 

“It was my mother’s” he explained, his voice shaking and his eyes on the ring. “When we fought the other day, I decided to give it to you today after I talk to Thranduil…I wanted to stop anything that tries to come between us…but then everything changed.” Then he looked up at Aleth who had finally failed in keeping her tears away and was sobbing quietly. “I know it is the worst time…” he said. “But I will not let anyone and anything come between us again, starting today…” Then slowly he placed the ring in her finger and kissed her hand, making her cry harder. “You are mine, and I am yours…And nothing will ever change that.”

 

Aleth could not express how his words lifted her spirit so she merely cried harder. She was in a cage of grief, disgust and fear…he was the light in her cage. He was the key to its door. Her heart was torn between the fear of another filthy touch and the desperate desire to be close to her love. She needed to end this fear or the pain would never seize.

 

“Galdor…” she sobbed quietly. “Hold me…”

 

At first it seemed that the steward was surprised by the demand, but he kept his face and slowly as not to startle the fragile princess, he pulled himself closer. He leaned on the headboard and gathered the weeping girl in his arms.

 

For a moment Aleth thought that her heart will seize beating from fear of the masculine touch. But then slowly the very much desired warmth crawled in her chest. It was the warmth of his love for her that was giving her ruined body the will to go on and she rested her head on his firm chest and cried until her weary body gave in to a deep slumber. All the while Galdor kept her close to him, silently pledging that he would never let anyone hurt her again.

 

***

 

The length of the corridors seemed much more to the queen as she tried desperately to reach the private quarters as fast as possible. Her heart beat like a drum as her concern rose for Thranduil. She didn’t know what had happened in the dungeons with the men and although he knew that Thranduil had been protected she feared that those foul creatures had hurt him somehow. After all, the princess was also protected by sentries when they had been attacked. 

When she finally passed the last corner she nearly ran into her father.

 

“Ada…” she gasped and jumped back.

 

“Iel-nin, good you finally came…” Alheru said relieved. “I just left the king in his chambers. You better go to him.”

 

“What’s wrong father!?” she asked her concern reaching its peak.

 

Alheru darted his eyes away for a moment before he looked back at her expectant daughter.

“He finally got mad as we all had expected…” he whispered. Then he dropped his gaze again. He seemed to be struggling with words. He finally sighed and looked back at his daughter exhaustedly. “Much violence was used tonight Leuthil; it’s only natural for him to be overwhelmed…”

 

“What has he done?” the queen asked, her concern turning into horror.

 

“You don’t want to know my dear!” the lord said tenderly as he caressed a strand of hair out of her face.

 

“I demand that you tell me father…” she said firmly. “I cannot help Thranduil if I don’t know what he’s facing!”

 

Alheru thought for some time. He desperately wanted to shield his daughter from this ugliness as a protective father would. But he had to admit that she had to know. This life had been her own choice and there was no way the lord could protect her from it. He cursed the day he had given permission to Thranduil to marry his daughter as he raised his head and decided to tell her everything.

 

“He caught the mortals’ manhood and left them to bleed to death…” he said. Leuthil’s eyes grew wide and she suddenly felt nauseous. She barely heard the rest of the tale as Alheru continued. “He left the younger one alive though!”

 

“Why?” the queen asked, surprised by the sudden mercy Thranduil had shown.

 

“He sent him to East Bight with a sac containing the men’s cut off groin, to send a message…” Alheru said wiping his brow absentmindedly. “Though I don’t believe he’ll make it to the village bleeding like that.”

 

Leuthil didn’t know what to say. The thing her husband had done was horrible but again what had been done to him was also awful. Sending a message by presenting three detached cocks was barbaric, but again three men raping an innocent girl was also wrong.   

 

“I would’ve done the same if I had been him…” Alheru said firmly when he saw Leuthil pondering. “Now go to him…he needs you.”

 

Then the lord patted his daughter on the cheek. “Be very careful my dear…” he said and then disappeared around the corner.

 

Leuthil walked to the door of the royal bedchambers and with a deep breath opened it. To her surprise the bedchamber was empty and for a moment she thought that Thranduil might have left. But then she heard the sound of sobs from the attached bathing chamber. Slowly she walked to the doorway and merely stood there startled.

 

Thranduil was sitting on the edge of the tub with all his clothes and boots on. His face and hands were blood soaked as well as his clothes. He had rolled up his sleeves and he was frantically trying to wipe away the blood from his hands and as he did so he sobbed with no restrain, letting the tears wash away the dried blood from his face.

 

His eyes fell upon Leuthil, yet it didn’t stop his weeping. He moaned as he looked away and continued his sobs and frantic cleaning as if wiping away the blood would erase the memory of the violence he was forced to show. Leuthil felt her heart fall inside her chest by seeing him so fragile and helpless. The sight of his shaking hands, his tearful eyes and his hysterical movements made her want to scream and kill anyone who had done this to them. She just couldn’t bear seeing him so broken.

 

She walked to her and with no hesitation grabbed him into her embrace. No words had to be said. She knew how drained he was. She could feel his broken spirit and his need for comfort. She could sense how lonely he was. He buried his face in her embrace and cried, clutching on her garment like an elfling grabbing his mother’s skirt.

Tenderly the queen ran her fingers through his soft hair as she waited for him to calm. All she could think was that how much she loved him and that how badly she wanted for this nightmare to end.

 

 

 

 


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank everyone who has read my fic and specially those who have spared the time to comment, it means a lot to me and it keeps me writing even when I'm on the blink of giving up on this silly story :)

Galion slowly pulled the regal tunic up the king’s broad shoulders. The tunic was a dark gold with designs of leaves on its fabric. It was such a rich thing; perfect for taking the eyes of the beholder away from the king’s weary face and it was definitely perfect for hiding his vulnerability from their observation.

After fussing over the collar, the butler straightened Thranduil’s waterfall of golden hair and smiled at him in the mirror.

 

“Thank you Galion…” Thranduil said softly.

 

The ancient servant merely nodded and after checking the room he walked slowly to the door. Before going out he turned and looked at the drained elf, standing tall in front of the mirror. Thranduil may have been the great Elvenking, but to him, he was always the naughty child who used to wet his bed when he was told ghost stories.

 

“Majesty…” he called, and Thranduil turned towards him with those eyes; the color of the sea in sunny day; so similar to Harma’s.

“Lady Aleth will be alright…” Galion said with a smile.

 

“You think so?” Thranduil asked, not concealing the doubt that had shadowed those noble features.  

 

“You two both have the blood of Aran Oropher running in your veins...that blood is strong and vivid” Galion said. “You will both survive through these days.”

 

Thranduil smiled. Despite the ageless face, his aide was much older than him; and like a child believing in what his parents said, the king wanted so much to believe in what he had told him. He walked past the servant and entered the corridors towards Aleth’s chambers.

 

It was amazing how _normal_ the palace seemed. Thranduil knew that only a handful of people knew about the tragedy that had befallen his family and he was thankful for it, but somehow it seemed strange to watch his people wander around, going after their daily activities and greet him as he passed; as if nothing special had happened. His heart swelled when he thought that definitely Aleth would feel much more horrible when she would finally find the will to get out of her room. _If_ she would _ever_ find the will.

 

When the king finally passed the last corner and Aleth’s door came to his view he was surprised to see Galdor standing behind the door in the corridor. The steward didn’t seem to have noticed Thranduil’s approach as his worried gaze was stuck on some point on the floor that Thranduil could swear did not exist.

 

“Galdor…” the king called, which startled the steward. “What are you doing here?”

 

Galdor seemed to be lost for words. With his eyes wide he opened his mouth to answer a few times but closed it, like a fish gasping for air. Thranduil frowned. He hadn’t thought that his question was _that_ hard to answer.

 

“I…wanted to…I…” the steward croaked but then again he closed his mouth. Taking a deep breath he finally straightened his back. “I wanted to place guards here.” He finally said. “But then I thought the princess might be bothered, so I just thought I’ll guard it myself!”

 

He had expected some reproach or suspicion from Thranduil but the king merely looked at him with surprise and then he smiled. Then in an uncharacteristically shy gesture he lowered his gaze as he spoke softly.

“Thank you Galdor…” he said. “For looking out for us.”

 

Galdor felt terrible. These words cut him deeper than Thranduil’s screams about him being careless.

“If I had looked out for you…” he said. “None of these would’ve happened.”

 

Thranduil looked up with a hard gaze.

“I know that I blamed you last night…” he said. “But I hope that you understand; I was angry and overwhelmed.” Then he went closer and placed both his hands on Galdor’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I don’t blame you for this…”

 

Glador looked away. He couldn’t look into those eyes. He couldn’t tell him that he was indeed the one to blame. He had been too proud to go look for his beloved. He had been too occupied with his broken heart to take care of her. His frustration was breaking him and his eyes burned with tears of sorrow, anger and extreme fatigue.

 

When no answer came to from him and Thranduil saw how he struggled to suppress the tears, the king smiled weakly and patted him on one side of his face friendlily.

“I know you love Aleth like your own sister…” he said. “This is hard for both of us, but we must stay strong for her…”

 

In that moment Galdor wished that he had the courage to shove a dagger into his own heart. He wanted the pain to consume him. He wanted to shake Thranduil out of his trust and scream that he did not love Aleth like a sister, but he would die for her as a _lover_. And then he wanted Thranduil to push him against a pillar and strangle him to death, so that he didn’t have to face the betrayal and disappointment in his eyes. But instead Galdor merely nodded.

 

“Go now and take some rest…” Thranduil said. “The Imladrian party will be here in hours and you’ll have to receive them.”

 

Again Galdor merely nodded, not being able to look in the king’s eyes and after receiving a pat on the shoulder he walked down the corridor towards his chambers.

 

Thranduil couldn’t help but noticing how ruined the steward was. And with his sharp wits he had simply caught how he avoided his gaze. Perhaps his friend was too tired and he was being too skeptical. After those thoughts left him, he finally turned towards the door and placed his hand on the handle.

He hadn’t seen Aleth after that horrible night, after he had delivered her to the healing chambers broken and defiled. He took in a deep breath and knocked and waited for the faint call before he pushed the door open.

 

The first thing he saw was Leuthil standing at the foot of the bed, folding some sheets. She stopped and turned towards the door to see who had disturbed the princess. But her face softened when she saw Thranduil. The king’s eyes then darted from his wife to his sister who was under a light blanket, leaning on the headboard. Her eyes widened from seeing him in the doorway; something like fear lingering in them, and then she dropped her gaze shamefully on the floor.

 

Thranduil closed the door behind him and walked towards the bed. He hesitated a few seconds before sitting on the edge of it, facing Aleth. He watched her for some time. She looked as good as one in her situation could. With his sharp eyes Thranduil scanned her. She was clean and she was wearing neat clothing. Though her eyes showed the terror she’d been through no signs of the attack lingered on her that was visible from outside her night robe. No matter how much Thranduil watched her, she did not lift her eyes as if she feared facing her brother.

Thranduil turned towards Leuthil, and with a nod of her head she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her to give the siblings some privacy.

 

Thranduil gently reached out and took Aleth’s hand in his, which made her finally look up at him. Her hand was warm in his but those eyes where cold and clouded by sorrow and shame; a shame that burned Thranduil’s heart. He took a deep breath and licked his lips as he kept Aleth’s gaze.

 

“I killed your assailants…” he said simply, not truly finding better words.

 

Aleth’s eyes grew wide and her hand tensed in Thranduil’s as her breath hitched. She opened her mouth to say something but then she closed it again; too shocked to be able to say anything. In her mad fear she couldn’t imagine that those foul creatures that had taken everything away from her were no longer alive. They had taken her soul, her body as well as her pride; and now they no longer breathed the air that the Valar had granted them. They were deader than the soil of Arda…and yet, this fact did not console her.

 

“I assure you, that it was a slow and painful death…” Thranduil said firmly.

 

Aleth could clearly see the pain in her brother’s eyes. If she knew Thranduil, she was sure that definitely those men have suffered through hell before being granted the permission to die, and it sickened her. She felt horrible for being the reason that Thranduil had to do such a thing. She was a worthless fool that brought them nothing but worry and shame. Her eyes shook and again she dropped her gaze; not being able to keep Thranduil’s eyes.

 

“Forgive me Thranduil…” she whispered, a lump growing in her throat. “For dishonoring you and our family…”

 

Thranduil hissed as if she had stabbed her with a knife. He grabbed her shoulders firmly which made her look up at him, startled by the not too gentle touch. Thranduil’s piercing eyes locked with hers and burned her to the core and he spoke slowly, yet firmly, as if he wanted to instill every word in her head.

 

“This is not your fault!” he said. “I do not blame you for this; neither should you blame yourself…”

Then his eyes suddenly filled with sorrow and his strong demeanor from before faded. “I am the one who has to be forgiven.” He continued. “I was the one who had to protect you, and I failed…the blame is all mine and I will carry it with me forever.”

 

The lump that was suffocating Aleth finally burst open and she let out a loud sob before she almost threw herself in her brother’s embrace. She remembered centuries ago when she had been a mere elfling and she used to follow Thranduil everywhere, seeking attention from her older brother. And the peak of her childish joy was when the young prince would grant him that much needed kindness with a peck on her cheek, or some sweets from his pocket or an embrace such as this; secure and warm. Those strong arms that were now holding him again, were the safest place on Arda. No-one could hurt her there; no one could reach her. She wondered how Thranduil smelled like her father. How the feeling of his arms holding her was so similar to him; strong and gentle. But Thranduil was also similar to their mother; kind and beautiful…Thranduil was all she had left from those happy days and faded memories.

 

“I miss nana and ada…” she whispered, her voiced muffled by Thranduil’s firm chest.

 

“Me too…” he said quietly.

She felt him resting his chin on the top her head and crushing her more to himself, as if he was afraid of losing her.

Perhaps Thranduil loved her still, as she was also the only thing he had left from his parents and those happy days and faded memories.

 

***

 

It had been a long time since they had experienced such a storm in spring. The wind lashed the drops of rain like a horse sweeping its tail. The trees were bent almost to the forest floor from the strength of the storm, struggling not to be torn away from the ground, their roots clinging to the soil for dear life. There was no other sound in the forest except the crazy blow of the wind; all the creatures in the forest had taken shelter, hidden in the heart of the deep forest.

 

The only being that was not sheltered was an ellon wrapped in a light traveling tunic and a thick robe to protect him from the lashes of the rain. His boots were muddy and showed the long walk he had taken; but his face showed no hint of exhaustion or despair from the wild nature surrounding him. He was determined to get somewhere, and to get there fast; even the Valar could not stop him from reaching his destination this night. His paces were strong and unwavering and somehow it seemed that the forest moved away from his path as if it feared his hated existence, as if the trees could sense that this particular elf was more dangerous than a thousand storms.  

 

On the edge of the Greenwood forest, now mostly known as Mirkwood, where the trees ended and showed the line between the land of the Elvenking and the East Bight, there was a cottage; standing alone yet strong on the edge of a clearing. The only glittering light in the dark forest was coming from its window; showing that there was indeed an inhabitant there. The ellon sped his pace. When he reached the cottage he carefully checked his surroundings. No wise being would dare follow him on such a night that looked like a wet doom’s day; but still he needed to make sure or all would be lost. He raised his fist, gloved with a rich expensive fabric, and knocked hard on the door.

 

There was a sound inside that only his sharp elven ears could catch amidst the howling of the wind; as if someone had put down a glass on a table and then the curtains moved slightly. The resident of this house was even more careful than he was.

Then there was the sound of the locks being opened. The ellon didn’t wait for the door to open completely as he pushed it and entered the house rapidly; shoving the elleth behind the door away from his path.

 

“It’s not polite to stamp your host to the wall Miklovand!” the elleth said irritated, as she closed the door. She hadn’t had the chance to turn around that a strong had grabbed her from her neck and hit her hard on the wall.

 

As her throat was being pressed by the strong warrior she found no air to breathe not to mention require the reason for her harsh treatment.

 

“I told you not to hurt her!” Miklovand yelled and again he hit her on the wall; eliciting a moan from her open mouth that was gasping for air.

 

Her hands found his on her neck, trying desperately to release herself from the fatal grip; though she failed. Her face turned a dark purple and instinctive tears ran down her face. When she definitely found that in any second she would die the warrior released her, throwing her a few feet further on the wooden floor.

The sound of her body hitting the ground was cover by the noise of her dry coughs; struggling to breathe through her abused throat as she tried to stand.

 

“You’re mad!” she coughed when she finally succeeded in straightening herself.

 

“Yes! I _am_ mad!” he yelled. “I told you not to touch her…I told you I want her out of this!”

 

“Well what’s the matter with you!” the elleth snapped. “The bitch survived!”

 

“Yes! Barely!” Miklovand almost screamed. “She’s been raped by your filthy men.”

 

“Good! She needed it…” the dark elleth smirked.

 

Miklovand rose his had to backhand the wench but he was caught in midair by her firm hand.

“If you ever touch me again, I swear I’ll make you pay, just like Thranduil is paying now.” She threatened and pushed his heavy arm away.

“What did you expect?!” she said. “You think that these dirty jobs can be done with a tender heart? I told you that you should be ready for everything, that you should cut any ties you have to the line of Oropher if you seek revenge from his son.”

 

“Oropher raised me like his own son, I can never be cut away from his name!” he snapped.

 

“Well let me remind you that Oropher chose his real son over you!” she said sharply. Then she walked towards Miklovand who was breathing laboriously from anger and desperation. “Miklovand, if you want to take down Thranduil, if you want to find your rightful place, you cannot do it with sentiments.”

 

“Just take your paws of Aleth…” he said, looking deep into green eyes. “That’s all I ask, Morey.”

 

After a few seconds of hesitation Morey nodded and the air seemed to get lighter. Miklovand rubbed his eyes and sighed. Then a frown tied his brow as if he had realized something.

 

“How did you know she has survived?” he asked. “How did the news reach you here?”

 

A disgusted look claimed Morey’s features.

“A boy came. I think Konam had taken two others with him for the job.” She explained. “He had a bloodied bag with him and his breeched were also covered in blood.” She walked to a couch and dropped herself on it. “He handed me the bag and said ‘ _It’s a message from the Elvenking’_. But before I could do anything he fell and died right on my doorway.” she said, looking as if a stupid animal had thrown up on her steps.

 

“What was in the bag?” Miklovand asked.

 

“Three detached cocks!” she said and slowly looked up at the warrior whose face had lost all color by the information. “I can say Thranduil must’ve given them a rather painful death!”

 

Miklovand also dropped on a nearby chair and held his head in his hands.

“He’s declared open war by sending you this!” he whispered. “Though he doesn’t know who he’s fighting!”

 

“I wanted to break him with grief…” she sighed. “Now it seemed that I’ve just made him angry!”

 

“He will find you…” Miklovand declared.

 

“None of his troops can enter East Bight.” She said confidently. “He will not risk his entire trades for the sake of revenge. He’s smarter than that!”

 

“Soon he will not need East Bight for trade.” Miklovand said mostly to himself.

 

“What do you mean?” she frowned and her tone made the captain look up at her expectant green eyes.

 

“We’ll move in less than a year…” Miklovand said. “He’s already started the preparations to move the villages, though the Southernwood has chosen to remain.”

 

Morey frowned and fell deeply in thought. If Thranduil would move to the stronghold, so far up to the north, she would lose contact. She couldn’t continue her revenge upon him from such a long distance and it certainly was dangerous to go back inside Greenwood. But if Southernwood was rejecting the move, she could find allies among them and perhaps a place in their village. For a long time there was nothing but the sound of the cracking fire and the howling of the wind outside as Morey pondered her options.

 

“We should provoke them…” she finally said. “A whole village against a king is much more powerful than two people.”

 

Miklovand merely nodded and lay back on the chair. Morey gazed at him for a while then she stood and walked to the captain, standing in front of him.

 

“I need money to do this.” She said.

 

“I gave you countless coins not a month past…” Miklovand said with raised eyebrows.

 

“I gave it to the men…” she said.

 

Miklovand smirked as he took her hand in his and guided her between his parted legs.

“For a mission that _fortunately_ failed…” he said as he then placed his hands on Morey’s waist drawing her even closer. “It was a bad investment, and you need to pay it back if you need more money.”

 

Pulling Morey toward her, she lost her balance and dropped in his arms, her rear rubbing against his hardening member which made him gasp at the sensation. Thranduil’s previous mistress giggled slutishly in Miklovand’s arms as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

 

“Let’s just hope the poison you gave me would work before we are forced to move…” Miklovand said before claiming her lips in a wet kiss.

 

 

 


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, but this chapter's a long one ;)  
> Comments are appreciated as always. :D

Leuthil had not seen the capital so crowded since the army of the last alliance had taken residence in Amon Lanc those many centuries ago seeking Oropher’s support for the war against Mordor. The similarity of the sight was amusing. The Imladrian party had arrived in the capital a day after the assault on the princess. And now after two days the huge tents were all established and red banners of Imladris could be seen everywhere. Soldiers roamed around the forest and the city, buying goods from the Silvan or simply wandering in the trees.   

 

It was pretty hard to find solace. The palace was too sorrowful to stay in. The walls of the royal fortress seemed to scream in agony for the tragedy that had befallen the princess. Even the trees of the royal garden sang laments for her. Leuthil could sense her fragile faer whenever she was around. She knew that Aleth was on the blink of falling into darkness and it was killing her that she couldn’t do anything for her friend. The princess kept a calm face almost the entire time but inside her, her tormented soul was engaged in a bloody battle with death.

 

There was no calm even outside the palace, since the forest around had literally become a military camp. So the queen slipped passed the gates with her two sentries following her. Since the events with Aleth, Thranduil had made it clear that if any guard would leave their posts he would literally behead them; so there was no skipping the sentries anymore. But at least they followed her with some distance not to invade her privacy.

 

The cool breeze of spring caressed her face and she headed straight to where she knew no one would bother her. The spring had arrived and the wild roses had definitely blossomed near the river. She could smell their scent from a long distance.

When Leuthil reached her destination she almost gasped by the beauty of the roses; most of them were bloody red and some were almost black. She sat among them, remembering better days that Thranduil was a prince, free of kingly duties; a time that they would spend hours sitting here in each other’s arms. Nothing was between them; no realm to rule, no people to satisfy…it was just them. Deep within her, the woodland queen could feel the presence of a tiny faer, growing slowly inside her. She smiled and placed her hand on her abdomen that still showed no sign of pregnancy. She promised herself to show this place to her child as soon as he or she could walk.

 

“You never know what you find in the Woodland realm they say. You come to fetch some water and you find a pretty maiden beside it!”

 

Although the voice startled her, Leuthil kept her face and simply rose to her feet to see who had disturbed her.

An ellon was standing a few feet away from her. He was well built and was wearing a silver and golden armor. The red robe clasped around his neck showed that he was definitely one of the captains of the new forces. He was quite fair, with rich blue eyes and blond hair. His face was extremely familiar, though she could not recall where she had seen him before. The smirk he had on his face annoyed Leuthil and she raised her eyebrows.

 

She was surprised to be facing such and attitude but then she remembered that she was wearing a simple green robe that any normal elleth in Greenwood could wear. There was no circlet on her head, and she was not wearing any special braid to indicate hers status. There was indeed no way this ellon could guess who she was. Meanwhile she noted that her sentries were stationed within a distance from her and their green uniforms made it impossible for anyone to notice them.  

 

“It’s interesting…” she said. “I heard exactly the same sentences from guards of Imladris centuries ago.”

 

“Did you?” the ellon smirked, taking a step towards her.

 

“Yes…” she said, and held her ground. “They were merely soldiers trying to bother an alone elleth in the forest.”

 

“I’m not here to bother you my lady!” he laughed.

 

Suddenly Leuthil realized where she had seen him. He was with Lord Elrond those many centuries ago; when they had come to Oropher for trade negotiations. The same year that Thranduil had won the captain contest. He was the captain of Imladrian troops, the balrog-slayer, _Glorfindel_ of Imladris. A smirk shaped on her face and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

 

“I don’t think it’s safe to wander around the forest alone my lady…” he said, still smirking. “Some may indeed want to bother you. It’s a military camp you know!”

 

“Do not worry sire…I am not afraid of a bunch of young soldiers.” She said. “I am well capable of protecting myself.”

 

“You seem so sure!”  Glorfindel sneered.

 

“We are wood-elves sire…” Leuthil said. “We know the dangers around our forest better than the Imladrians I think!”

 

Glorfindel’s expression changed from mocking to some kind of admiration as he smiled at her and he took another step forward.

 

“You sound like a true Silvan…Wild and beautiful, like your forest.” He said and his hungry eyes scanned her. “I like _wild_ girls…they’re hard to tame.”   

 

Leuthil’s eyebrows shoot up and she couldn’t hold back her mocking smirk.

“Does this mean you have certain plans for _taming_ me sire?” she chuckled.

 

Glorfindel’s eyes darkened.

“If you tell me where your house is, I might pay you a visit tonight and give you a taste of my plans for you!”

 

Something stirred in the queen’s chest and she just couldn’t stop chuckling. If Thranduil was here, he would’ve probably rearranged the captain’s face.

 

“And what makes you think you’ll be welcome in my house?” she said.

 

“I hear the Silvan women have a tendency towards the Noldorin men…” he said, holding his head high as if the credit was his.

 

“And why would it be that?” she smirked.

 

Glorfindel looked at her mischievously and grinned.

“Everyone knows the Silvan men are quite fair…” he said in a hushed tone. “They waist the potential of their women!”

 

By then Leuthil just wanted to laugh out. She would’ve never imagined her teasing to lead into such a conversation with the lord of the Golden Flower. But it was a game she had started and she had to play it until the end.

 

“And why would I choose a Noldor, when they are still Sindars around?” she asked mischievously. “They don’t waist potentials, I can assure you.”

 

Glorfindel scanned her and burst out in laughter.

“Oh so you have a taste for wealth and power. I know the Sindar here are either the royal family or the closest to the royal family.” He said still laughing.

 

“A girl can dream!” she said confidently and held her head high. “I plan to be the king’s, and no-one else’s.”

 

Again Glorfindel started snickering, holding his stomach.

“I’m sorry love, but I believe your king is already taken!” he said pitifully.

 

“They say the queen has poisoned king Thranduil with a love potion.” Leuthil said seriously, almost giving in to her own laughter when she saw Glorfindel’s eyes widen and his jaw drop. “She’s very ugly you know…” she continued. “No-one would’ve loved her, so she poisoned no other but the king.”

 

Glorfindel stopped laughing and he was staring at her with growing amusement. Leuthil had also found this game quite entertaining.

 

“Someday, she’ll run out of potion they say…” she continued confidently. “And then the king will exile her from the realm and I will have a chance with him.”

 

By the end of the speech Glorfindel was watching her with a dropped jaw. It took him a few minutes to gather himself and then he looked at her fondly.

“You’re crazy!” he stated, though the queen knew it was meant as a compliment. Leuthil merely looked at her with raised eyebrows. He took another step closer until they were standing inches away. “I want to see you more…” he panted.

 

Leuthil giggled as she turned around and started walking away. Glorfindel was still standing there bewitched.

 

“Can I at least know where you live?” he said aloud.

 

Leuthil merely shook her head and chuckled as she disappeared from his eyes in the heart of the forest.  

 

***

 

Thranduil sat back on his chair and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He could still see floating numbers in the darkness behind his eyelids. He had at least summed up the digits on the parchment 10 times and each time the result was a different number. He had never been particularly good with numbers but summing up a list of yearly expenses was hardly considered a complicated mathematic task for him. His mind was so occupied that he could not achieve the simplest daily tasks. The king could swear that he was hearing his mind work like a factory, searching a single name among the thousands of people he had met in his millennia long life. One name rang repeatedly in his mind; Malin… _Malin_. His weary mind was too exhausted from sleepless nights and his sharp memory did not cooperate with him. He had to confess that he wasn’t exactly the type to remember every face and name he met, but he knew himself enough to be sure that he would never forget someone whom he had definitely made an enemy from. And deep inside his heart he knew, he _believed_ , that he had never heard this name before.

 

There was a knock on the door which pulled him out of his thoughts and he sat straighter on his chair. After his call of enter the queen came in.

 

Thranduil could swear that a great weight was lifted from his chest at the sight of her. During the years that Thranduil had been young and wild, when he used to take every creature on the face of Arda to his bed not caring if it was a male or female, Galdor had teased him; saying that one day he would fall for a fragile maiden who will make him give up everything that was precious to him. Now Thranduil knew what the steward used to say. He would burn the world for the elleth in front of her; the queen that was carrying his child.  

 

“My love…” she smiled and walked to him as he rose from his seat to take her in his arms.

 

He stole a kiss from her seductive lips and returned her smile fondly. It seemed that her hair was darker, and her eyes sparkled like stars.

 

“How is it that you are more beautiful since you’re pregnant?” Thranduil said as he leaned to nuzzle her neck.

 

Leuthil giggled like a child and kissed his lips passionately which made Thranduil moan in her mouth from the sudden bold action. When they parted he looked at her with an expression of guilt.

 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to look after you…” he said. “Everything went so crazy…”

 

“I’m fine Thranduil…” the queen cut him off with a smile, resting her fingers on his lips to silence him. “Do not worry about me.”

 

Thranduil smiled and placed his hand on her abdomen gently, his eyes sparkling.

“I can’t wait to see your belly swell.” He said like an excited elfling. “I want to show the whole world that you’re carrying my child.”

 

Leuthil chuckled and pulled Thranduil closer into anther passionate kiss. Immediately Thranduil responded hungrily, licking her lower lip, urging her to open her mouth for him which she did. He placed his hand behind her head and crushed her mouth to his; caressing every corner with his wicked tongue. It had been many nights that he hadn’t even slept by her side; and she was hungry for him. Her hands were blindly working on the tight collar of his tunic. It was such a fine clothing, befitting the king but Leuthil cursed the tight buttons. Just as she managed to open them Thranduil’s hand slipped under her skirt to caress her thighs. The heat was building up inside her fast and if she knew Thranduil well; he would take her right there on his desk; atop all the scrolls and parchments, containing reports and treaties. But the knock on the door didn’t allow them to get there.

 

Thranduil groaned on the nape of her neck before raising his head and letting her slip from the desk. Somehow during the process she had climbed up the desk but she didn’t remember. They were still panting as Thranduil buttoned his collar and the queen straightened her dress; both grumpily.  

 

“Come in…” Thranduil finally barked after the second impatient knock on the door.

 

The door opened and Leuthil’s heart sank inside her chest as she watched Glorfindel enter.

To her relief he did not even give her a glance as his eyes fell on the king.  

 

“Ah my lord…” Thranduil greeted him as he strode closer.

 

“Your grace…” Glorfindel bowed his head.

 

“My lady, I’m sure that you know Lord Glorfindel of Imladris…” Thranduil said glancing at Leuthil and then he placed a hand on her back and turned back towards the lord. “Lord Glorfindel, allow me to present my wife and queen, Lady Leuthil Alheruiel.”

 

Glorfindel’s blue orbs darted on the queen and his eyes grew wide in disbelief. The lady in front of him was indeed the same girl he had seen beside the river but her slender form was covered with a rich blue garment with embroideries of silver flowers in its fabric that only royalties could afford. Her dark hair that had been loose, hanging in curls to her waist was now gathered in one braid as was the custom for queens of Mirkwood and her head was adorned with one of the finest tiaras he had ever seen with sapphires as big as a knuckle.

 

He hardly suppressed a gasp and an open jaw as she looked at her mischievously; showing him well that she indeed had known who he was when he had been flirting with her beside the river that morning.

 

“My lady…” he fortunately finally found his voice before Thranduil would suspect anything and he kissed her hand. He locked his eyes with hers as if nothing special had happened between them. He had heard about the Elvenking’s possessive nature and knew better than to trigger it by mentioning anything.

 “I had heard rumors about your beauty…” he said smiling. “The gossips have not done you justice, my lady…”

 

“And I fell asleep countless nights during my childhood, listening to my father telling stories of your glories in war.” Leuthil said sweetly, which made blood boil in the lord’s veins and he knew he had blushed.

 

Leuthil almost jumped as Thranduil’s hand circled around her waist selfishly. She turned towards him and smiled at his not so satisfied face.

 

“My love…I should go to your sister.” She said. “I promised to accompany her to the garden today.”

 

Thranduil nodded and stole a territorial kiss from her lips before releasing her to go.

The queen took a step back and curtsied to her king.

“Majesty…” then she nodded at Glorfindel. “My lord…”

 

The lord of the Golden Flower hardly suppressed the urge to follow her with his gaze as she walked out of the study. Instead he kept his gaze upon the king who smiled warmly.

 

“I must beg your forgiveness Lord Glorfindel for the ill manner I received you and your party within my forest…” Thranduil said after a few moments. “I hope that you’ve not doubted our hospitality.”

 

“Of course not your grace, I know of the horrible events…” Glorfindel said sympathetically. “It is wrong for me to expect a ceremony for my arrival!”

 

Thranduil nodded his appreciation but then he fixed his piercing eyes on the lord.

“I hope that I can trust your secrecy on this matter…” he said firmly, almost sharply.

 

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows. Thranduil was known for his bluntness throughout the elvendom. But the lord of the Golden Flower wasn’t really sure how he felt by the Elvenking doubting his secrecy. This couldn’t be a good start for their new cooperation.

It seemed that Thranduil felt he had annoyed the lord so he continued.

 

“This tragedy is horrible enough for my sister…” he said sorrowfully. “I merely do not wish to add prying and pitying eyes upon her.”

 

“I understand…” Glorfindel said; Thranduil just wanted to protect his sister and he was being oversensitive, and he knew it. “I will never betray your trust.”

 

Thranduil smiled and pointed at a chair as he circled his desk to sit on his.

“Please take a seat.”

 

Glorfindel complied and watched as the king took a bottle of wine and took out two goblets.

“Sire, please no wine for me…” he said before Thranduil could pour any in his goblet. “I don’t drink during the day.”

 

“You’ll be a daytime drinker soon if you stay here a few months…” Thranduil teased as he poured water for the lord and handed it to him.

 

Glorfindel accepted the glass with a chuckle as Thranduil sat and sipped from his wine.

 

“I estimate that lord Elrond has granted me eight legions…” the king started.

 

“Yes your grace, eight legions of 40…” the lord nodded. “All at your command.”

 

Thranduil thought for a moment, gazing at a spot on the desk and playing with his goblet. Glorfindel could swear he could hear the ticking of that famously sharp mind. Finally Thranduil looked up.

 

“I would like them to split…” he said. “Some I want to send to the new stronghold to guard the safety of the new established villages. Others I want them to stay and help with the move and the safety of the southern boarders.”

 

“You seem worried about the south…” Glorfindel said suspiciously.

 

“I have a dangerous enemy there…” Thranduil explained. “I can’t allow more harm to come to my people or my loved ones.” Then the king leaned closer on his desk as if he wanted to tell the lord a hushed secret.  “I also believe that we have a traitor among us, who helps my foe…” he said. “I need you to keep your eyes open.”

 

A shiver ran down Glorfindel’s spine. In his long life he had learned well that a traitor among trusted men was more deadly than an army of thousands. He indeed needed to keep his eyes open. He finally nodded as he sipped from the water.

 

“How is Lord Elrond…?” the king asked softly. “Did Lady Arwen receive my gift?”

 

Hot blood rushed in Glorfindel’s veins and he felt the irresistible urge to crawl on the desk and punch the ellon in front of him, though he knew the Elvenking was innocent. Thranduil had merely showed his gratitude by sending an expensive gift to the Lady of Imladris; a gift that Glorfindel could never afford. Perhaps if he could’ve afforded such jewelry things would’ve turned differently between Elrond’s daughter and him.

 

“Yes…” he finally said with a forced smile. “Lady Arwen and Lord Elrond send their gratitude for the precious gift.”

 

Thranduil smiled and sat back on his chair comfortably. “This was nothing compared to what lord Elrond has done for me.”

 

“Lord Elrond has a request though.” Glorfindel said carefully.

 

Thranduil’s eyebrows raised and he leaned on the desk again, listening attentively.

 

“He has sent his twin sons with me…” the lord continued. “He believes that a proper training and supervision in Greenwood will be good for his sons.”

 

Thranduil frowned.

“Lord Elrond and anyone of his household are always welcome in my forest to stay as long as they wish…” Thranduil said cautiously. “But has your lord considered the dangers lurking in this forest and the trouble his sons can get into? They might even put their lives in danger.”

 

“Lord Elrond believes that this time away from the comforts of home and the luxury of Imladris and the presence of a supporting father would perhaps bring some sense of responsibility to his sons.” Glorfindel sighed. Then he took a parchment out of his tunic and handed it to Thranduil who accepted it with a questioning look in his eyes. “My lord has also given you written permission to punish his twins in any way you see suitable if they try any mischief.”

 

Thranduil chuckled as he took the parchment from Glorfindel and studied it for a while.

“Then I must meet the young lords as soon as possible…” He said finally. “It’s also good for me to practice some parenting skills.”

 

“You’ll find a fight with the dark lord himself easier than dealing with Elrond’s sons!” Glorfindel chuckled.

 

Thranduil smirked and put the parchment away. There was another knock on the door and after the king’s call Galdor entered.

 

“Galdor, come in…” Thranduil greeted as Galdor bowed to him.

 

The steward walked closer and scanned Glorfindel who respectfully stood up for him.

 

“My lord Glorfindel, I believe you’ve met Lord Galdor my closest friend and advisor.” Thranduil said.

 

“Yes your grace…” Glorfindel said, looking at Galdor with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet the king’s famous trustee.”

 

“The pleasure’s all mine…” Galdor said as he bowed his head for the lord ignoring the comment.

 

Thranduil rose and straightened his back.

“Lord Galdor will discuss the details of our strategies with you tonight my lord…” he said. “He is my eyes and ears in this palace; if you need anything just let him know…”

 

Glorfindel nodded with a smile towards the steward. So it was true the trust Thranduil had put in his lifetime friend; a Silvan from a very low family that had climbed the steps towards power with his political wits and his never ending loyalty towards the Elvenking. Acknowledging his dismissal the lord of the Golden Flower bowed his head and went to the door but before leaving he hesitated and walked back to the king.

 

“I almost forgot…” he said as he searched in his tunic. “Lord Elrond has sent you a small gift.”

 

He took out a small box from his clothes and handed it to Thranduil who took it doubtfully. The king turned the box in his delicate pale finger and opened it. A very strange object lay inside it. Thranduil took it out with care, examining it as it lay on his palm.

 

“It is a musical instrument a very talented musician of Imladris has recently made using bones…” Glorfindel explained while Thranduil turned the object in his fingers and scanned it curiously. “It’s called _Harmonica_ …”

 

Thranduil studied the instrument a while longer trying to figure out how it worked. Then carefully he brought it to his lips. Glorfindel remembered Thranduil’s talent in music well but he was nonetheless surprised to see how fast the Elvenking had discovered how this alien instrument worked. The king carefully blew in the harmonica and elicited a rather strange sound from the instrument which made him look up at Glorfindel with amusement.

 

“It’s such a strange thing…” the king commented.

 

“It is…” Glorfindel agreed. “Lord Elrond thought you might be able to practice your talent with a new instrument.”

 

“It’s been years since I played any music…” Thranduil said regretfully. “Your lord is very thoughtful as always. Make sure you send my deepest thanks to him in your next letter.”

 

“Of course…” Glorfindel smiled and bowed his head. “Have a good day sires”

 

When the door was closed behind the lord, Galdor turned towards his king with a smile.

“It’ll be good for you to reacquaint your soul with music.” He said.

 

Thranduil merely nodded as he placed back the harmonica inside the box.

“Any news from East Bight?” the king asked.

 

“I’ve sent spies…” Galdor said. “Though I still think it’s not safe to enter the land without permission from the human settlements, we might risk any peace treaty we have with them.”

 

“I don’t need permission from murderers and rappers.” Thranduil barked in a way that strangely reminded Galdor of Oropher.

 

“While we wait for any news from East Bight we have another matter at hand sire…” Galdor said. “The committee we organized for the move will reach the Southernwood tomorrow.”

 

Thranduil sighed and sat back.

“Although I’ve warned Siavash not to interfere, we should predict everything…” Thranduil said. “I want this to be done in peace…”

 

Galdor nodded. But as his gaze was locked with Thranduil’s he could see the same concern in his own heart reflecting in those perfect aquamarine eyes.

 

***

 

The spring breeze was not so cold, but it made Aleth shiver nonetheless as she walked through the doors of the royal gardens. Her weak body trembled by the smallest uneasiness like leaves in the wind. The grass was a strong green under her feet and the rare flowers had blossomed, dyeing the royalgardens in various colors. The Arda seemed to renew itself around her; as if the earth was breathing again, blowing the cold winter away; welcoming a new life. As an elfling she always loved the spring best; and as an adult she loved the nature at its greenest. As an elf she could sense the the happiness of the forest. But this year, unlike the thousand years of her life, she felt a dramatic contrast between her feelings and the nature around her. As life renewed itself in the beloved forest she felt her heart slip further towards a slow death. She had not smiled in days, so deep she had drowned in sadness that she could no longer remember a time that she had been happy, as if she did not know what joy meant and felt like.

 

Her weakened body did not help either. Though the wound on her side had healed due to elfish healing her skin was pale like the snow in the winter’s chill and she was always cold. Coldness was the only thing that she felt. She had thought that the news of her culprits’ death would bring her relief and endless joy. But when Thranduil had laid the news on her, she was numb towards it. She had been shocked of course, but no sense of relief washed over her, no feeling of security warmed her hear, and no joy crept inside her soul. She had felt neither a fulfilled revenge nor disgust from the knowledge that Thranduil had tortured those men to its extent; she didn’t care if they were spared an easy death.

 

The only times that she was pulled out of her numbness was when Galdor secretly slipped into her chamber from time to time. They didn’t talk much, but his touch and his presence was the only solace she could find; and he was generous in offering it. It had taken time for her to reacquaint herself with his hands. She had been terrified and disgusted by another male touch. But the comfort and secure warmth that those calloused hands offered were like a sword by which she fought away her fears.

 

She sat on a wooden bench and wrapped herself more tightly in her robes. Despite all the kindness and care she had received from Galdor still there was an empty place in her heart; a sense of insecurity she could not push away. She felt that the steward was a temporary bless, and he would throw her away like trash sometime soon.

 

“My lady…”

 

Sometime during her pondering she had slipped so far into her own thoughts that she had not felt anyone approach her. She raised her head and looked at Miklovand who was standing in front of her. She remembered a time; long long ago; when she had felt joy by the sight of this dark haired elf. She also remembered a time, not so long ago, that she felt spite and annoyance whenever she saw him. Now she felt nothing. His presence was no different than a tree, or the wooden bench.

 

“Miklovand…” she said weakly. “What are doing here?”

 

The captain of the guard seemed to be struggling with his words. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and swallowed a few times.

“I came to see how you’re doing…” he finally croaked.

 

Aleth scanned the hard built ellon in front of her; this elf whom she had known from the first day of her life. Such black hair was rare among them and she had loved it once. She had adored those black eyes and vulgar face, centuries past; when she had been young and stupid. But things changed, and as time passed she saw. She saw the schemes, the lies that caused such turmoil in her family. She watched deadly fights of a father and a son. Hiding away under a desk or in a closet, she observed how a son; full of pride and fire of youth and a father; noble and strong, forgot the love between them as a hushed war consumed them; all because of a jealous foster child that wanted to fulfill the complexes of being parentless by stealing a father from his real son.

 

If it was a different time perhaps Aleth would’ve shooed him away but she had no strength for talk of the past and its injuries while the wound of the present was still fresh and bleeding.

 

“I’m fine Miklovand…” she said coldly. “Thank you…”

 

Miklovand studied the elleth he loved with all his heart and silently he cursed Morey. The golden hair that used to dance around her seemed dull as she had gathered it behind her head in a single lazy braid. Her eyes, blue as the sea, were dead and empty with dark bruises under them. An iron hand pressed against his chest. This play had gone too far, and too dangerous. He had sunk too deep into this filth. He would’ve never let anything happen to this princess but Morey was not like him. She was vengeful, she was mad, and she would sacrifice everything to take down Thranduil. Of course Miklovand also wanted Thranduil’s fall. He wanted him to break like a tree in the storm, he wanted Thranduil to lose as he had lost, he wanted him destroyed and his proud mask shattered for the entire world to see his coward being; a prince that had watched his king be slayed in front of him, a son that had left his father’s body in the marches of Mordor, and a king that had let his green woods turn into _the forest of fear_. But despite all this, Miklovand had his limits. He would not watch Aleth or more innocents get hurt by crazy plans of Morey. She would’ve never gone this far without his help and soon he would leave her and this madness. Slowly he kneeled in front of the princess and unintentionally he placed his hand on her lap. She flinched by his touch as if it had stung her and immediately he pulled his hand away. Aleth dropped her gaze shamefully for she had not wanted to make Miklovand uneasy. But the captain said nothing, except keeping his understanding gaze upon her.

 

“I know that Thranduil provides any available comfort, and that you have friends surrounding you…” he said. “But I want you to know that if you need me, I’m always here…”

 

Aleth looked at him; fixing that icy gaze at his doubtful face. That freezing look reminded him painfully of how Thranduil normally looked at him.

 

“I love you Aleth…” he continued. “I will burn the world for you.”

 

Tears filled those aquamarine eyes and the princess looked away. Miklovand could not guess why his words had caused her to weep but her state was driving him to madness. He wanted to do something. He craved to take her hand and run away with her, away from this forsaken palace and its malice.

 

“Aleth…” he choked.

 

_“I think you should leave Miklovand.”_

 

The voice did not come from the princess but from the queen that was standing behind the captain. He immediately rose to his feet and bowed his head for Leuthil who was gazing at him with a hard look.

 

“Leave her be…” she said with a firm voice that left no room for argument.

 

Miklovand looked up at the queen with emotionless eyes. Then slowly he turned towards Aleth and bowed his head. “Your grace…” he said. Aleth still looked away.

 

He then turned towards Leuthil who was piercing him with her blue eyes. The captain could swear she had learned that look from her abhorrent husband. “My queen…” he said and bowed his head. Then he turned and walked away towards the palace.

 

 “Are you alright?” Leuthil asked worriedly as she took a step towards the princess and placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

Aleth let out a trembling sigh and nodded as she rose. The friends started striding in the garden slowly. For long moments there was nothing but light silence between them. Leuthil dared not asked about Miklovand for she feared the princess might be on edge. Aleth seemed withdrawn, but not worse than what she had been these last days after the attack. Secretly the queen admired the princess and her strength. Despite her fragile wavering faer, she kept her back straight as if it was made of iron, her slender form tall like an unbreakable mountain, hands tangled with each other under her chest in front of her and elbows open to the sides; a regal stance that Leuthil had only seen in the royal family and she herself had learned it from the queen mother. Leuthil had known Aleth as a fragile girl all her life; dependent on a caring father and protective brother. But this tragedy had brought a different dimension of her character to surface. Leuthil had faith that if Aleth would survive the hands of Mandos on her faer, she would begin a new chapter of her life; a more powerful chapter.

 

“Any news from East Bight?” Aleth asked finally, her voice void from any emotions.

 

“Not yet…” the queen shook her head. “But we will have news soon. Thranduil is doing all within his power.”

 

“He always does all in his power…” Aleth sighed darkly. “But somehow, it is never enough.”

 

“Do you blame him Aleth?” Leuthil asked coming slowly to a halt. “For not being able to protect you?”

 

Aleth also stopped walking and turned towards the queen. She fixed her eyes on her friend as if by that gaze she could instill her words better.

“I don’t blame anyone Leuthil…much less Thranduil.” She said firmly. “No-one could’ve predicted this.”

Then she looked away. Her eyes darted on everything around them; the trees, the flowers, but it seemed that she was not seeing them. “But I fear…” she continued gravely as she looked back at her friend. “We underestimated this elleth in the first place. We should have known she would attack again…” she sighed. “Thranduil does not remember her, but this elleth, whoever she is, has been wounded by him.” She said and she took a step closer and her eyes pierced sharper. “She is a woman that can see _rape_ befit another woman…” she continued gravely. “This elleth has a dark mind and a vengeful heart…she has attacked two times for death and she has failed…she is angry and frustrated, like a wounded lioness...She _will_ attack again.”

 

Leuthil looked away. Despite the truthfulness of Aleth’s words the weigh was too much on her heart. When the princess did not get a response from her she reached out and grabbed the queen’s elbow softly.

“Anyone can be her next target…” Aleth said. “Me, you, Galdor…even Thranduil.”

 

“I know…” Leuthil nodded. “That’s why Thranduil is postponing the announcement of my pregnancy. That’s why a dozen guards follow us everywhere.”

 

“He tries to protect his loved ones with all his might…” Aleth said. “Though I fear for his own safety more…and this elleth has proved to be more powerful than the mighty Elvenking.”

 

After that both of them fell silent and they started walking again. The dark conversation had left a heavy air between them and Leuthil wanted to blow it away.

 

“Does Galdor visit you often?” she asked after a while.

 

“He does…” the princess sighed sadly. “Though I don’t understand why.”

 

“What do you mean?” Leuthil said sharply as she grabbed Aleth’s shoulder, forcing her to halt and look at her.

 

“I am soiled, I’m ruined…” Aleth threw her shoulders up. “Why would he want me?”

 

“He loves you!” Leuthil snapped.

 

“I am _not_ the person he fell in love with…” Aleth said with a loud voice. “My body is not mine, my life is not mine, my mind is ruined.” She clawed in her hair in frustration and paced a few steps before turning again. Her eyes where wide and her pupils turned to mere black dots in her aquamarine orbs as if she could see something frightening that Leuthil couldn’t. “At nights I see them…they come to torture me again.” she said with a trembling voice. “No matter how much I clean myself…I can still smell their filth on my skin.” Then her tears spilled on her cheeks.

 

Leuthil closed the distance between them and took her in her arms. But before long Aleth pushed her away enough to look into her eyes. “I am not sane Leuthil…” she sobbed. “Galdor would never want me. He deserves much better…”

 

“He loves you, and he wants you…” Leuthil said with a smile. “Otherwise he would’ve never given you the ring.”

 

Aleth sighed and pulled herself out of the queen’s embrace. She wiped away her tears, avoiding Leuthil’s gaze. The queen knew that her assurance had not been effective but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Aleth was hiding from her. Or perhaps the princess was merely exhausted. 

 

“I’m tried…” Aleth finally said.

 

“I’ll accompany you to your chamber then…” Leuthil said.

 

“I can find my own way Leuthil…” Aleth smiled warmly, despite the icy look. “Go about your tasks that I know you’ve left pending for days because of me.”

 

Leuthil knew that this was the polite way for Aleth to tell her she needed to be alone so she did not argue further as the princess tapped her lightly on the shoulder and walked away towards the palace. The queen watched as Aleth finally disappeared through the doors and then she sat on the wooden bench.

 

Aleth’s words frightened her. In her heart she knew them already but hearing them out loud made her shiver. The danger that seemed so close and so unknown to them. Their enemies were no orcs but one of themselves; and an elf was much smarter than thousands of orcs. _‘This elleth has proven to be more powerful than the mighty Elvenking.’_ Aleth’s words ringed in her ear, and the queen feared for them to be true. Was it really possible that this foul she-elf would defeat the mighty king Thranduil?

 

Something stirred in her belly and she felt the tiny faer inside her; as if the little one had sensed her fear and anxiety. She looked down with a smile and placed her hand on her abdomen.

“Easy now my child…” she whispered. “Nana will let no harm come to you and your Ada is will always protect us…there’s nothing to fear.”

 

“My lady…”

 

She raised her head to find Jansu, Aleth’s handmaid standing in front of her.

 

“Jansu…” she said with raised eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you be with the princess?”

 

“Yes your majesty but I needed to talk to you…” the girl said with a dropped head.

 

Leuthil felt the graveness in her voice and sat more straight.

“What is it Jansu?” she asked worriedly. “Is there something wrong with Aleth?”

 

The queen didn’t need an answer for when the handmaid raised her eyes she could read her response from her worried look. There was definitely something wrong with Aleth.

 

 

 


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed some time for writing the next chapter so I decided to update this short one.  
> I thank everyone again for reading and leaving kudos and comments.

Being the king’s hand and closest advisor, Galdor had little time for himself. During the last few days he had even lacked the time to ponder over the things that had happened to him and his beloved and how everything had changed in a blink of an eye. It wasn’t yet noon and he had already checked on the armory for new forged armors, checked on the trainers under Lord Alehru’s supervision, given instructions to committees that were sent to different parts of the realm for the move and he had also written uncountable letters; sending them to Thranduil to be signed and sealed. Now he was walking towards Holgailion’s office to talk to him about the upcoming spring festivals and the yearly contests among the soldiers. He felt nausea and his knees were weak. The lump in his throat that had been growing for days was suffocating him and he needed air. Somewhere in the corridor leading from his office to the lord’s, the steward gave in.

 

He changed his route towards the palace entrance and literally threw himself out of the citadel. With long strides he walked away to the forest not caring where his feet took him. He needed air, he needed some time for his own; to grieve and to accept what had happened to him. His heart was burning with anger and sorrow that were still very much alive inside him. Each breath took all his strength to leave his lungs.

 

His breath hitched and the steward burst into loud sobs when he reached a desolated part of the forest. For years he had built dreams in his mind; to make Aleth his, to read each chapter of the book of love with her. He wanted to be the one who shows her the pleasure that love could manifest in the physical being. He wanted Aleth to be his; her body to be his, her mind to be his. But her body was taken away brutally, and her innocence was despoiled by dirty hands that had dared to touch her. Her mind was no longer her own. All she could think of was the memory of filthy laughter, torn flesh and sharp screams. However she had accepted his touch and Valar knew how Galdor was thankful for that; to be able to at least hold her, to comfort her pain and chase away her fears. But it was not enough for him.

 

Thranduil had found satisfaction in taking revenge. He had found solace in brutally shedding the blood of those who had wronged his sister. But as a secret lover, the steward was unable to do anything. His fears, his anger and his sorrow had all been buried inside his heart…and oh his heart…it was on fire. Its flames threatened to burn down his entire being, and there was no rain that could put it out. Over and over he asked himself if he was capable of carrying this burden. Was he truly able to accept Aleth as she was; broken and ruined? Was he able to comfort her wavering faer, to become the joy that she would live for? Or would he surrender to fate and let her go? Even if they were to end up together, and even if she would become better, would _he_ be able to forget? Will he be able to ignore the images that would crawl in his mind whenever he saw her, or touched her? The images of her on the forest floor; dressed torn and body covered in blood and spent seed of mortal strangers.

 

The steward leaned on a tree as he buried his face in his arm and wept. He loved her. He wouldn’t last a day without her. He had no pride, no dignity and no prejudice when it came to her. He would do anything, he would forget all his morals; just for her, to make her happy, to erase the fear from those eyes, to bring a smile back to those lips. If only fate would put down his arms and stop testing him in every way possible.

 

“My lord…”

 

He sighed as he turned to face the soldier who was standing behind him, ready to below at the lad for disturbing him in the few minutes he had stolen for himself. But the look on the soldier’s frightened face made him hesitate.

 

“My lord I wouldn’t have disturbed you if it wasn’t important…” the young one said as if he had felt Galdor’s annoyance.

 

“It’s alright…” the steward said. “Tell me, what is it?”

 

“What we feared has taken place my lord…” the soldier said, not daring to look Galdor in the eyes. “We have news of deadly quarrel in Southernwood.”

 

***

 

Whenever a council meeting was over, Thranduil had to literally run away from the hall so that eager counselors would stop their never ending conversations with him. That day was no different. The meeting had started almost at dawn and without Galdor to handle it, the entire toll had been on his own shoulders. Reports of the move were satisfying and that was all that mattered for now but Thranduil felt the increasing need for his wine after such a busy morning with advisors that were each centuries older than him and thus terribly boring and talkative, however when the king opened the door to his study he saw two identical black haired Noldor sitting in his office. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling when they rose from their seats in a gesture that was the mirror of one another.

 

“King Thranduil!” they bowed.

 

Even the way their raven hair poured on their shoulders was similar and it made it even harder for the king not to chuckle in amusement.

 

“Young lords!” he greeted and walked closer to the Noldor who were slightly shorter than him. He scanned them head to toe and smiled warmly. The sight of the twins had taken him centuries ago to a feast in Imladris. Celebrian had been there and the two well-built ellons in front of him were merely babies then.

 

“I see you’ve grown into fine warriors…” the king grinned. “Last time I saw you, you were two young elflings running around the valley.”

 

Then the king turned towards a small table to pour some wine for the twins and himself. With his back towards the Noldor he could not see their faces but he sensed the looks they were exchanging and the silent conversation they were having.

 

“We didn’t remember we’d met before my king…” one of the twins said.

 

“You were so engaged in your childish mischief then, lord Elladan…” Thranduil chuckled without turning towards them. “I bet you don’t remember many things.”

 

When he turned to hand the goblets to the twins he saw their wide eyes and their dropped jaws.

“Is there something wrong?!” he asked.

 

“You can tell us apart?” Elladan gasped.

 

“Of course I can…” Thranduil chuckled as he handed them the cups. “I was there at your naming day…”

 

“Even our sister sometimes fails in telling us apart!” Elrohir mused as he took the cup from Thranduil.

 

“Well I’m a king…” Thranduil smiled. “And to be a king is to be and observer.”

 

Then he brought the cups to his lips to sip from the wine. He kept his eyes on the Noldor twins as he did so.

 

“Your father has sent me a letter…” The king finally said. “Literally asking me to _teach you some manners_.”

 

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a knowing glance which made Thranduil realize that they were quite used to lectures.

 

“He believes you’re too ill-behaved and irresponsible for your status and wants that remedied.” Thranduil continued.

 

The twins seemed bored, shifting their weigh from one foot on another impatiently as they thought they knew where this conversation was leading. However Thranduil took another route.

 

“I don’t care what others say. I have to see for my own eyes.” The king said. “I don’t judge you. And that gives you a chance to prove yourselves.”

 

He then placed his empty cup back on the table and regarded the twins with his deep eyes.

“You will serve and learn under the supervision of Lord Glorfindel.” Thranduil said. “Serve my land well and I will write a stormy letter to your lord father and I will tell him that he has gotten you all wrong and that you are worthy assets to any realm.”

 

The twins regarded one another with amusement and then they both looked back at the woodland king with two identical grins.

“We will try our best to be worthy of your trust.” Elladan said. “We are very excited to finally see your forest and its famous magic…”

 

“The forest is magical yes. But first rule; you’re not allowed to go there alone.” Thranduil said firmly. “Your lives are too much of value to be taken by foul spiders.”

 

“Are you saying that the Elvenking is afraid of spiders?” Elrohir teased, exchanging a meaningful glance with his twin.

 

“My lord Elrohir the types of spiders I know are quite different from the insects you’ve seen all your lives.” Thranduil said calmly. “There are spiders, and then there are _spiders_!”

 

Then the king walked closer, piercing the shorter twins with his eyes.

“You will not go into the forest alone, under any circumstances.” He said firmly. “Do you understand?”

 

“Yes your majesty…” the twins nodded together.

 

“Very well…” Thranduil said satisfied. “You may leave.”

 

The brothers bowed to the king and walked out of the door in silence. Thranduil watched the closed door for a while not really seeing it. The Noldor twins did not seem so troublesome to him. They were just like any young elf in his eyes; curious and intelligent. Their similarity to Elrond was amusing. It seemed that Celebrian had had no role in creating these two.

Thranduil chuckled to himself and turned towards his desk just to see a huge hairy insect on his papers.

 

He gasped and instinctively walked back just to hit the small table, causing the bottle of wine to tremble and fall; breaking with a loud noise.

 

The noise made the tarantula panic and run around on his desk, then the huge insect jumped down with a speed that startled the woodland king. The tarantula started running around the room with its hairy legs and it came right towards the petrified king. Thranduil jumped out of its way making a stupid sound as he climbed up a nearby chair. His entire life he hated spiders and their kind. He could easily fight a warg but this horrible insect was unbearable in every size and color.

 

“Thranduil?!”

 

Somehow during his frantic escape he had not heard Galion enter his study. The butler had heard the sound of the bottle break and had worried for his king and had entered the study only to find the mighty Elvenking standing on a chair and looking at a tarantula, fright stricken, as if he’s seen Mandos himself.

 

“Don’t worry my king…” Galion chuckled. “I’ll get rid of it for you.”

 

“Kill it!” Thranduil almost sobbed. “No, stamp it!”

 

Galion rolled his eyes as he reached for a piece of paper and guided the creature out into the balcony. And then he forced the tarantula to jump of the edge. He watched as the hairy insect hit the ground and ran for the forest. When he returned to the room Thranduil was still on the chair visibly shaking from disgust.

 

“It’s gone my dear king!” Galion said as if talking to an elfling. “You can come down now!”

 

Thranduil hesitated before cautiously climbing down the chair, as if he was afraid that the tarantula’s friends would come out of somewhere. Galion chuckled. The sight before him had taken his mind to far away memories of the king. Thranduil was almost a foot taller than him now but there was a time when the king was hardly to the aide’s waist. He was indeed a naughty elfling but when it came down to spiders he was helpless. Many characteristics of Thranduil had changed along with the transition of his status from a prince to a king, but not this one.

 

“Stop mocking me!” the king snapped at the butler who was having a hard time suppressing his grin. “If you tell this to anyone I will…”

 

“I won’t tell my king…” Galion said, still chuckling. “Just as I have never told anyone that you used to wet your sheets when I told you ghost stories.”

 

Thranduil could spat out fire. He didn’t know if he was annoyed at the butler for teasing him or angry with the twin’s for disrespecting his friendly approach. He should’ve known that his kind words would not change anything. He should’ve ordered the young monsters to be hanged by their ankles in the stables before he even met them.

 

“Brats!” he spat and made Galion chuckle harder. “How can such monsters be the fruit of Elrond and Celebrian’s union?”

 

“Well I never understood how could you be the result of king Oropher and lady Harma’s marriage, my king…” Galion teased quite seriously.

 

“Don’t even compare me with these identical beasts!” Thranduil argued with his forefinger pointed threateningly towards the butler, just as he used to do when he was critiqued as a prince. “I was a noble prince at their age!”

 

“Oh yes my king but I do remember a certain night when Lady Harma ran out of the royal chambers because of a toad in her bed and I remember a long lecture you received from your heated father.” Galion said, rubbing his chin. “I do recall you were even older than the lord twins are now.”

 

Thranduil opened his mouth to argue but no words came out. He remembered the toad well. He had found it in Galdor’s quiver when they’d been camping in the forest and the mischievous plan had shaped in his wicked mind. His mother had forced Oropher to replace the royal bed with another one since no matter how much they had tried the smell of the toad would not leave the bed. He remembered his father would not talk to him for almost a month and when he started talking to him again it was another scolding for some wrong he had done again.

 

Finally he gave in and joined Galion in his non-stop chuckling. He had to ignore the twins’ plan or they would know they had gotten on his nerves and that meant victory for them and defeat for the Woodland king which Thranduil would not have it. He decided this was the best option and besides he had Galion to dispose the tarantulas for him.

 

“My king!”

 

His cheerful moment was interrupted by a panting soldier that ran to the room without knocking. Thranduil wanted to reproach him for not asking for permission but the soldier’s features made him freeze.

 

“Trouble in Southernwood my king!” the soldier reported rapidly. “The people who wished to move with you were disturbed by the ones who’ve decided to remain in the settlement and a fight has taken place.”

 

The news did not come as a surprise to Thranduil but startled him all the same.

“Tell lord Galdor…”

 

“I found lord Galdor earlier. He’s already left the palace with 20 men for Southernwood.” The soldier interrupted. “His lordship asked that you follow after him so that he can settle the situation before you reach the settlement.” Then for the first time the soldier raised his head allowing Thranduil to see his fright stricken eyes and the deep cut on his cheek. “My king the situation is dire…it needs your immediate attention.”

 

***

 

Hours had passed but the queen kept pacing the royal chambers back and forth. Her regal blue garment swept the carpeted floor and made rustling sounds with each step but she did not hear it. So deep she was in thought that she hadn’t even noticed when she had ripped her tiara off her head sending it flying to wherever it had a head to go. Fortunately it had landed on the bed.

 

The news was not a surprise but disturbing all the same. So many thoughts ran in her mind that she couldn’t arrange them. Many times she had walked all the way from her chambers to Aleth’s to talk to her but the pleas of Jansu had come to her mind making her stop and return in midway. The hand maid had begged her not to confront Aleth about it and not to tell her that it was the maid who had told the queen her secret.

 

She had also wanted to go to Thranduil’s study but again she had turned back before she even reached the leading corridor. She was glad that the hand maid had been wise enough to tell her about the problem but the knowledge had placed her in such turmoil that she somehow wished she had never been told.

 

Aleth was not in a good state. She would think that her hand maid had betrayed her and this knowledge would break her beyond repair. The queen also knew that facing the princess would be useless and it will only serve to madden her further. Leuthil knew Aleth enough to believe that the princess will definitely also persuade her to keep this hazardous knowledge a secret and she wasn’t sure if she had the ability to stand against Aleth’s self-destruction alone.

 

Telling Thranduil was the only option left.

 

Her husband had done all he could for his sister. He had spared all the time possible to spend with Aleth. But in the end he was the king, and a king trying to move a whole ream. Every single subject needed his attention at this time and Leuthil wanted to avoid burdening his mind further. But no matter how much she gave thought to the issue, she knew it needed Thranduil’s direct attention.

 

The queen finally decided on her option and she walked to the corridors. With each single step she took she felt her knees weaken and her will wavered. The corridors leading from the royal chambers to Thranduil’s study were not long. But it took ages for her to reach there. She was surprised not see any guards at the king’s door but she ignored the fact and stood before the wooden entrance that guarded the chamber that had once been Oropher’s office and now belonged to Thranduil. She remembered a certain night that she had stood in that very study in front of an angry Oropher who had just punished his son with fists, booted feet and a horse lash. Leuthil had thought then that confessing to the king that his son had been with her the entire night had been a hard task to do. But now she was forced to face another king who was not her to-be father in law but her husband who owned a hot-temper that could burn the entire woodland down. The issue she had to say was also much graver and much more troubling.

 

“Are you going to knock or not, your majesty…?”

 

She jumped from Glorfindel’s merry voice and turned. The elven lord was leaning on a close pillar and had been watching her. She realized it had been quite some time that she’d merely stood there in front of the wooden door without doing anything. 

 

“The king is not there…” Glorfindel continued more seriously.

 

“Is he not?” she asked turning completely towards the lord.

 

“He went to Southernwood with some men…” he explained.

 

Leuthil raised her eyebrows and her eyes claimed a distant look in pondering.

 

“Is there anything I can do for you my lady…?” Glorfindel asked worriedly.

 

“Oh no my lord…” she smiled. “It’s a personal matter.”

 

Glorfindel nodded his understanding.

“I understand.” He said. “But please if there is ever anything I can help with don’t hesitate to tell me…”

 

“I will…” Leuthil said with a grin. “If I can rob you off the woodland ladies you plan to visit.”

 

Glorfindel blushed dramatically.

“That was awkward!” he said.

 

“No it was quite amusing actually!” Leuthil chuckled.

 

“You should’ve told me who you were…” Glorfindel argued.

 

“And that would’ve spoiled all the fun…” Leuthil smirked.

 

Glorfindel regarded the queen with amusement.

“You’re quite mischievous for a queen…” Glorfindel mused. “It’s a wonder how you have married and stayed with king Thranduil.”

 

“Why do you say that?” Leuthil asked.

 

“Well the Elvenking’s foul mood is not hidden from anyone throughout Middle-Earth.” Glorfindel said.

 

“Oh he’s not grumpy with me…” Leuthil chuckled. Then she bowed her head slightly for the lord. “In fact he’s very kind and caring.”

 

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Although the gesture annoyed the queen she didn’t have the nerve to talk more to the lord.

 

“Have a good day my lord…” she said while she tilted her head a little.

 

Glorfindel bowed his head in return and stepped out of her way.

The queen passed him as she walked away and Glorfindel followed her with his gaze, feeling a warmth spread inside him that he had not sensed for a long time.

 

“My lady…” he called.

 

The queen was almost at the end of the corridor when she stopped and turned with a curious look, her hands clenched to each other under her chest and elbows apart in a very feminine royal stance that he had only seen in the lady of Imladris. Oh how he had always adored that posture.

 

“You said that the Woodland queen is extremely ugly…” he said. “I must say I disagree…”

 

“Be careful lord of the Golden Flower…” the queen said in a teasing tone. “You might face a royal penalty for disagreeing with my opinion.”

 

Then she chuckled and turned away from him continuing her way. Glorfindel merely stood there for a long time watching the now empty corridor. It seemed that this queen’s tongue was as smart as her face was beautiful.

 

 

 

 


	47. Chapter 47

It had started raining again. The company following the king were all silent and with the hoods of their black cloaks covering their heads and faces they looked more like a mourning group traveling for a burial ceremony. They knew they were getting closer to Southernwood and they all knew well that the king’s safety might be at question. Despite their silence they were sharply alert.

 

Thranduil knew his forest well and the sky of his woods was a mirror of his own mood, as it always was when he was experiencing extreme feelings. When they reached the borders of the settlement he halted his mane and dismounted, his booted feet hitting the muddy forest ground and ruining the fine leather and even his dark breeches. But he didn’t care. He watched as his most loyal sentries did the same and positioned themselves around him. For a moment he wondered about the reason they did this. Why did they protect him while by doing so they were putting their own lives in danger? Just as Aleth’s sentries had been killed in a vain attempt to keep her safe, any of his own guards could meet the same fate. Why would anyone do that when they could live a simple life as a soldier or even a captain? Perhaps it was out of loyalty; or did they truly believe in their king?

 

With his head the king signaled them to start walking and they did, disturbing the deep mud beneath their feet. Even with his fine clothes made of the best fabric and his thick cloak made of the most expensive fur, Thranduil was soaked. The rest of his company was no better and he could feel their struggle in moving in the sticky mud. Somehow it reminded him of the marches in Mordor, when he had watched from the top of the hill how his father’s army charged forward and got trapped in the deathly mud and filth; how it ate them as if they never existed. It sent a shiver down his spine. This situation was different but it gave him the same feeling of helplessness he had felt then. In Mordor he had wanted to run to his father and help him but his hands had been tied; he couldn’t do anything but watch from atop the hill as his father ran to his death and he had felt useless. Now he was able to help his people, he had put aside his love for the forest and his possessiveness for every inch of his land just to take them to safety, but instead they fought him back, as if they wished to perish in the darkness that was catching up with them. Somehow he felt the same helplessness.

 

The leaves in front of them started moving and the guards immediately loaded their bows only to bring them down when Galdor shoved the low branches out of the way and appeared with two of his sentries.

His eyes searched Thranduil’s and the king saw terror and disaster in them.

 

“Thranduil…” he whispered as if he needed to buy sometime to form his words. The steward walked closer. “Please…Go back.”

 

“What does that supposed to mean?” Thranduil frowned.

 

“They’ve become frenzy…” Galdor explained wisely. “They might try to hurt you.”

 

“Then protect me…” the king said firmly his ire rising by watching the steward’s fear.

 

Galdor seemed on edge and perhaps for the first time in his life he showed his frustration and anger towards Thranduil.

“They will kill you!” he almost yelled. “I cannot protect you like this.”

 

“If they wish to kill me then I surly deserve to die…” Thranduil snapped. His words made the company shift in their places.

 

Galdor merely looked at him with weary eyes; concern, love and fear floating in them. Thranduil wondered if there was anyone in the world that loved him like this; that would easily die for him. He was not sure if he deserved of such devotion. Galdor had literally shouted at him, questioning his authority in front of his sentries but he couldn’t care less. A painful coldness had crept inside his heart from knowing the rebellion but the love and concern his friend was offering him unconditionally warmed him from inside; like a cup of warm milk in the heart of winter. He grabbed Galdor’s shoulders and looked him in the eye; letting his appreciation show in those aquamarine orbs. He needed to calm his friend.

 

“I’m not a tyrant Galdor…and I’ve done nothing wrong.” Thranduil said calmly. “My conscious is clear…I do not fear my own people.”

 

It seemed that Galdor would argue further but after a few moments of just looking at him he nodded and stepped aside. Thranduil took a deep breath and started walking to towards the settlement, Galdor walking beside him and his sentries positioned around him. Despite the situation he felt safe.

 

As they approached the settlement Galdor explained the situation as he walked beside the king.

“As I understand while the committee had been helping the people with carrying their belongings to the carts Siavash’s men have gathered around cursing and offending the movers…merely an oral quarrel I suppose.” He said. “But then it seems that they’d started insulting you…and it has angered those loyal to you.”

Galdor sighed before continuing. “No matter how much the committee and the guards have tried to calm the situation they failed. It seems to me that Siavash’s men have intentionally provoked the movers. The fight becomes violent and…” Then Galdor instinctively grabbed Thranduil’s sleeve to attract his attention. “Thranduil, Siavash’s men were armed…”

 

“Armed?” The king asked with disbelief.

 

“They‘ve taken up man forged weapons and attacked the committee and the rest of the people who were unarmed and helpless.” Galdor nodded. “They’ve burned the houses of the movers while they were still inside. They destroyed their belongings. They’ve left them nothing.” Then Galdor took a deep breath as if gaining strength to say something even more horrible. “Some have been killed from the movers Thranduil…” he said gravely. “She-elves and children among them.”

 

The king’s heart cramped. The mass of emotions attacking him was too much and he felt faint. Grief was the first thing he felt. He loved his subjects like his own kin; as if they were his own brothers and sisters. Any death among them was a death in his own family. Then anger rose inside him and then guilt; anger towards the rebels who had wronged his loyal subjects and guilt hat he had let such a thing to happen.

 

Without another word he fastened his pace until he entered the settlement. The village was in a silent chaos. Many elves were standing there in the heavy rain and Thranduil could see they’d gather around something. Guards where everywhere with their swords ready for any attack but the Wood-elves seemed to sorrowful for any harsh act.

 

“Make way for the king…” someone yelled.

 

In silence the Silvan moved out of the way. Some bowed to the king and letting him pass through the flesh wall they had made and some merely whispered. And then Thranduil saw the scene. His subjects, at least 10 of them, lied in the mud, lifeless. Their bodies showed signs of violence and defenselessness as if they had tried to protect themselves with bare hands. It burned his heart. He never let his subject possess weapons other than bows and small daggers for hunting, now he felt guilt for if he had allowed them to carry swords perhaps they could’ve defended themselves, perhaps they would’ve been still alive.

 

Among the dead there was a young elleth and at least three elflings. She-elves where gathered around the corpses; crying, screaming, scratching their faces in grief. They were probably mothers, sisters or wives of the fallen. This scene was no different from the kin slaying he had witnessed long ago as a child. The anger Thranduil felt threatened to burn his insides.

 

“Bring Siavash…” he snapped.

 

The king huffed out the air like a wild horse. It didn’t take much long for Siavash to come forth but he was not with the king’s guards but with two of the settlement’s young ellons that were holding man made swords. The lord seemed more arrogant than before, more confident; proud from the butchery his men had done and he stood tall in front of Thranduil who regarded him with that look that could bring a dragon down. The king breathed heavily, his eyes red with open nostrils.

 

“I see you’ve assigned body guard for yourself…” he said in dangerously calm tone. “Who do you think you are?”

 

“By hearing that your men were coming to the settlement I was merely fearful of my life…” Siavash said casually.

 

“By the Valar you are wise…” Thranduil growled taking a dangerous step closer. “You do not deserve to live!”

Thranduil’s expression was a combination of anger and betrayal. He regarded the lord for a few moments and Siavash kept his gaze with an annoying arrogance. Thranduil looked around him. Southernwood was always a beautiful village. Its people very hard to handle as they were the oldest of the wood-elves but they were skilled woodsmen and healers. They had built beautiful cottages in the settlement that could never be compared with the other villages. But now what Thranduil saw was desolation. Burned houses could be seen everywhere; smoke rising from the windows. The crops were also burned and scattered horses that had once belonged to these people roamed around freely. Thranduil turned back to the lord. He hardly suppressed the urge to take out his sword and cut the elf’s throat.

 

“I gave you a choice…” the king said, his voice shaking from anger. “I saw you worthy of deciding your own fate…all I asked in return was for you not disturb my other subjects.” Thranduil’s burning eyes pierced the lord as he continued firmly. “You betrayed me…You broke your word to me.”

 

“The movers deserved their fate…” a young ellon said from the back. “They betrayed the forest.”

 

“Seeking a safe place to live is not called betrayal sir…” Thranduil snapped directly at the elf. “Killing your own brothers and destroying their lives however; is.”

 

“They chose a Sindar over their Silvan brothers…” Siavash said. “They are blood traitors.”

 

Thranduil furrowed. Since the moment they had been accepted in Greenwood he had forgotten about his Sildar identity. He had blended with the Silvan subjects to be their true prince, and so soon he had learned to live in the wild, enjoy the the sensation of the mossy floor on his bare feet and climb the trees like the forest creatures. He had devoted himself to his Silvan subjects just like his father, never feeling separate from them and yet this lord was now reminding him of his different origins as if he had never been one with them.

 

“No matter how much you want to show otherwise king Thranduil, you never think about the wellbeing of the Wood-elves. You only think about the Sindar who travelled to our woods with you.” Siavash continued, taking a brave step closer. “Because of that golden head of yours, you will always see yourself better than us just like Oropher.”

 

The statement caused growls and curses from the guards behind Thranduil which he silenced them with his raised hand. He needed to say his thoughts or he would choke with unexpressed words the rest of his eternity.

 

“I never saw myself from a different race from you…but now that you insist, let me remind you of a long time ago when the Sindar immigrants entered the woodland.” Thranduil snarled. “This place was an ancient wild forest with no signs of civilization. And the Silvan –including you Siavash- used to live in various tribes in battle with each other over food and primitive needs.” He continued with anger that he only remembered his father to possess. “My father gathered you under one banner; My father brought you brotherhood and prosper; he stopped you from killing each other…and now you have changed from the woodland to _the Great Greenwood_ , the last kingdom of elves.” Then Thranduil glanced at the people who were standing behind Siavash. “The Sindar Oropher did this for you and I must remind you that he never mentioned a word about being from different origins; not in public and not in the private of his own family.”

 

There were whispers among the elves though the sound of the rain was too loud to let the king make out their words. He waited, chest heaving from anxiety and anger until Siavash answered back with heat.

 

“At least Oropher was a powerful ruler who defended the realm.” He said. “You are not but a coward fleeing like a dog with your tail between your legs.”

 

In a blink of an eye swords were drawn and the guards and the movers were loaded for an attack. Thranduil again raised a hand to calm them. Annoyed growls and curses was the result of stopping the elves that were loyal to Oropher and his son.

 

“My men need a better and braver leader.” Siavash yelled to let his words be heard over the uproar.

 

“A leader who orders his men to kill their brothers?” Thranduil cried which made the people silent again. “For Valar’s sake they were your neighbors, your fellow villagers for thousands of years.”

 

“They betrayed the forest by following you!” Siavash said which brought a deadly silence. This time Thranduil’s men were waiting for the king’s order to attack and Siavash’s men were ready to for an absolute fight. But no order of battle came from the king as with slow steps he approached Siavash. He narrowed his eyes and and towered over the smaller form of the lord. His anger seemed to burn the settlement with heat even in that cold rain and the sky thundered with loud noises reflecting the Elvenking’s rage.

 

“I _am_ the forest…” the king hissed, and with water soaking his hair and face he truly looked like a powerful creature of the forest. “I am the trees that breathe in her lungs; I am the rivers that run like her veins. I am the creatures that live inside her womb.” Then he glanced at the men who were gathered behind the lord and then he looked back at Siavash. “You are not but a kinslayers.”

 

Again uproar and again the men were ready to attack. This time Thranduil was truly considering a battle. These elves had dared to rebel against his words and they had gone too far by hurting his citizens. With the powerful elfish weapons his men had they could easily overcome the rebellion. He raised his hand to order an attack but a sharp scream calling his name stopped him and again silence fell upon the elves as a she-elf ran towards him.

 

“My king…” she cried sharply, breathless from sobs. The entire village was silent; all watching the elleth stumble towards the king. Her clothes were torn and soaked with rain and mud as was her fair face. She staggered towards the king with loud cries of agony. Thranduil’s sentries tried to cover him from her touch but the king weaved his hand to let her pass. He had seen her weeping over the body of a young ellon. The entire settlement watched as the elleth almost fell to the mud trying to reach the king and Thranduil caught her in his powerful arms.

 

“They killed my husband…” she cried. “Milord, they killed _my love_ , they burned everything. They made my daughters homeless; fatherless…Milord Don’t leave us please…please…we have no shelter but you.”

 

Her pitiful cries and the sound of the rain was all could be heard in the settlement. Thranduil knew tears were gathering in his eyes and although he didn’t want to show weakness in front of the rebels but his heart was broken and the protectiveness he felt was making him sick. These people had suffered because of their loyalty to him and he had to protect them.

 

The elleth was clutching his tunic and had dug her head in his chest. Instinctively the king wrapped protective arms around her, holding the weak she-elf in his embrace.

“I will not abandon you my lady…” he whispered to the she-elf. “I promise.”

 

Galdor approached them and handed a woolen robe to the king and he wrapped it around the elleth.

All the thoughts of battle left him as he tried to warm the pitiful elf. He had to prevent further bloodshed. His subjects needed peace not another kinslaying.

 

He regarded Galdor, still holding the elleth.

“Lord Galdor, arrange for the families of the movers to be taken to the capital under extreme protection…take the deceased as well to be buried with respect in the capital.”

 

Galdor nodded and slowly he managed to take the she-elf from Thranduil’s arms and take her away. All were still silent. It took Thranduil a few seconds to gain back his composure and turn towards the Southernwood people who had rebelled.

 

“I speak to you now as your king…” he said. “I will give you another chance to choose.” He pointed at the dead and continued. “This lord here offers you treason and kinslaying, and I offer you the peace and safety of my stronghold; the fortress that had been built by the efforts of the Silvan engineers for your safety.” He said firmly. “As your king, I swear by my blood that I will protect you if you follow me. And I promise you nothing but death and destruction if you stay.”

 

The villagers exchanged looks and they seemed to be pondering. To truth was that some of the men who had at first chosen to stay were taken aback by the brutal events. It made them reconsider what they had been offered. Thranduil waited and for a few minutes it seemed that nothing will change but gradually some elves separated from the line of Siavash’s followers and joined the rank of the movers that were being lead to the carts. They were just a handful families and individuals but still it meant a lot to Thranduil and he nodded his appreciation to them as they passed him.

Then the king turned to those still standing behind Thranduil.

 

“Note my words now in your history O, Southernwood.” He said firmly, his voice echoing through the woods. “This is the day that you chose treachery over loyalty.”

 

The elves were silent as the grave as the king walked closer to them, regarding the rebels with piercing gaze.

“You have betrayed your forest by killing its children and you have committed treason against the royal crown of Greenwood.” He said aloud. “The penalty of treason in exile within our law and kinslaying is punishable by death.” By this statement the elves went stiff. The laws were clear but no ruler before had acted upon them but again no rebellion had occurred before in the woodland.

“I show you mercy upon both…you will not be exiled and you will not be slayed.” The king continued. “But you are no longer considered as the citizens of Greenwood…you have no right over your lands, you are not allowed to leave your settlement; you will not trade with my subjects, you will not hunt within my forest…and you will never pass the borders of my capital.” He explained. “You are merely renters of my land…”

 

The whispers started again and murmurs of agreement could be heard from behind him as Thranduil approached Siavash who tensed but held his ground. The king stood inches to his face and silence fell again.

“Treason and Kinslaying are the worst sins in the eye of the Valar…” he said threateningly. “From this day forth water will become fire in your throats, food will become ash in your mouths…and no aid shall come to you when darkness descends…and you shall be forever damned, for I will never forgive you.”

 

Siavash said nothing. His brow twitched and his mouth turned to a line. He knew he had made a mistake. He couldn’t manage a whole settlement in isolation. But he had a strong head and he would not yield to Oropher’s elfling.

 

Thranduil glared at him for a while then he glance one last time at the elves that had rebelled against him and turned towards his mane. Galdor came to his side as he mounted.

 

“All that I said was an order…” he said to the steward. “If any of them sets foot out of their forsaken village towards my forest…show them no mercy.”

 

Galdor merely nodded and watched as the king galloped away on his stallion, his sentries following him on their steeds.

 

 

***

Galdor had been watching Thranduil pace his study back and forth for almost an hour. Of course he was content with it just as long as Thranduil did not wreck anything further. Tolerating the king had been quite a challenge while he broke almost everything in his study; throwing the books to the walls and breaking the bottle of wine on his father’s portrait. All along he had screamed in the agony of betrayal at the top of his lungs. At last to Galdor’s relief the toll of the journey and anxiety caught up with Thranduil and he was too exhausted to continue his destruction. He looked as if he had just came out of a bloody war with his hair tangled and his disorganized tunic.

 

“GALDOR!!!” he suddenly snapped as he hit his fist hard on the desk and made the steward jump. “Keep these traitors away from my people.”

 

“That will not be an easy task, my king…” Galdor noted and immediately regretted his words as Thranduil growled like an animal.

 

“They are a deadly disease…” he said. “Keep them away from my stronghold and my subjects.”

 

“The public opinion is already on our side Thranduil…” Galdor assured. “The people already consider them outsiders. They even call them by the name “Renegades””

 

Thranduil nodded and his gaze fell upon the broken bottle and the red wine drenching from his father’s portrait. He regretted breaking his bottle for he needed that wine now so desperately or he would kill everyone that comes in his path.

 

“We need to find out where they have obtained the weapons from?” Thranduil whispered more to himself.

 

“I will inspect the matter…” Galdor nodded.

 

 There was a knock on the door and Leuthil entered. She saw the grim face of Galdor and the horrifying mood of Thranduil but she did not care. Already she had waited days.

 

“Thranduil there’s something you need to hear…”

 

“Not now Leuthil…” Thranduil started.

 

“It cannot wait Thranduil!” Leuthil interrupted which made Thranduil raise his eyebrows.

 

The queen did not wait for another response but indicated for Jansu who was standing behind the door to enter. Thranduil’s eyebrows were raised even further as Aleth’s shy handmaid stood in the middle of his study with her head dropped; feeling completely out of place. He just prayed that there was not another issue in his household.

 

“What’s wrong mistress Jansu…?” he demanded. “Is there a problem with my sister?”

 

The elleth looked up only to immediately drop her gaze again by seeing the king’s piercing gaze. Leuthil approached her and stroke her back for encouragement.

 

“It’s alright Jansu, you’ve done a good thing by telling me so we may help the princess.” She said kindly. “You’re not betraying lady Aleth, merely aiding her…”

 

“Lady Jansu…” Thranduil’s firm voice made the elleth immediately look up with fear. “I did not assign you to my sister’s care so you can hide secrets from me. I assigned you to her care for I knew you were loyal to _me_.”

 

The elleth shifted her weight uncomfortably and after a few seconds she finally opened her dry mouth to explain but she closed it as she looked from the king to Galdor and back.

 

“Mistress Jansu, everyone in this room share my sister’s secret so you may talk freely…” Thranduil said gently.

 

The mistress nodded and swallowed a few times before finding her courage. She dropped her gaze, not being able to hold the king’s gaze.

“My king…” she stammered. “Lady Aleth is pregnant.”

 

 


	48. Chapter 48

_***_

_The two ellons in the dark study were too deeply engaged in their argument to notice the little girl standing in the corner, watching the fight._

_Her father was handsome; well-built and strong like a mountain. He was perhaps the kindest father a daughter could wish for. It was impossible for him to sit across the dinner table and not call for his daughter to sit on his lap. He would feed her small mouth with his big hands and he would play with her like a doll; and he never cared who was watching. He always spoiled his daughter._

_But now as the princess watched with great surprise, the only thing that she could think was that this person-this angry, yelling elf- was not her father. Her father had deep grey eyes that were filled with kindness, these burning pupils that shot nothing but hatred and rage could not belong to her adar._

_Her eyes darted to the recipient of the anger. Her brother was the most beautiful creature she had seen in her short life; tall as a tree, slender yet lithe like a tiger. The prince was perhaps the most adored and admired in the little heart of the princess. It shocked her to see him so angry and yet so pitifully young and inexperienced comparing to her father. Try as he might to keep up with the argument, to shout back yet his father’s rage was burning him like a thunder burning the forest trees. The prince was much older than her but now that she watched as tears filled his aquamarine eyes he seemed so young comparing to her father._

_To the princess it didn’t matter what they were fighting about. It didn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. All that mattered was that the most beloved people in her life were almost to the point of killing each other. Her father’s rage was so dark that the little girl wished she could take the prince’s hand and drag him out of that forsaken study so that he would not be harmed._

_Her brother’s sharp gasp made her jump as she saw with great fear that the king now had a handful of the prince’s hair in his violent fist, pulling his head as he yelled in his face. The prince screamed back with a louder voice as he tried to free himself from that iron grip; his words echoing in the little girl’s head._

_“I hate you…” the prince kept screaming at his father who seemed not to hear him. “I hate you…”_

_The young elfling had not known she was suppressing her tears before she heard her own sobs. The king’s head snapped up and gave the prince enough time to release himself from his hold. Her brother looked at her with shock; clearly feeling guilty for her fear. Without another glance at his father the prince ran to the little girl and snatched his sister from the floor; holding her tight with his hand under her as she circled her tiny arms around her and cried._

_Her brother’s arms were safe and warm. From where her face rested on his shoulder she could see his father turn from them and dropped himself on his chair; exhausted from the endless fights. He didn’t even look at his son. The princess could still feel the tension in her brother, but he soothed her; rubbing her small back with his large palm; murmuring comforting words to her with a voice that was slightly shaking. The hum of his voice sent a vibration through her as she clutched to his neck. The prince glanced once more at the king who had now hidden his face behind his palms with his elbows on the desk. She could feel how hurt he was as he turned and walked out of the study, caring her as if she was a little doll._

_They had merely passed a corridor when she felt his body shake with silent sobs. Not wanting to upset his little sister he dug his face in her clothes to hide his tears from her. But the princess saw…and from that moment she hated her father’s study, the room that had made her brother cry. ***_

 

Aleth hated that room and as she walked through the corridors to reach her father’s former study-now Thranduil’s- she marveled at how her hatred towards the particular chamber had not lessened a bit in all those long years. Even when Thranduil had moved to that place, she still despised the room. Her sudden unwarned summon to the detested study did not help the nausea she was feeling from the morning.

 

She was restless. Sleep rarely came to her eyes and the weight of her secrets were becoming too much to bear. Just as she reached the wooden door and rose her hand to knock, the door opened rapidly and Galdor almost ran into her. She gasped and jumped back. A feeling of comfort crept inside her by seeing her beloved and she wanted to use that small moment to exchange their love. But the steward merely stood there, eyes wide with shock and disbelief and perhaps a tingle of betrayal.

 

“Galdor…” she started but before she could continue he passed her without a word and disappeared in the corner.

 

She followed him with her gaze. His strange behavior had shocked her and almost broken her heart. It was almost a full day that she had not seen her beloved steward and missed him deeply. He could at least stay for a few seconds and talk to her. Or perhaps lock his admiring gaze with her for just a few moments.

 

Not understanding the strange behavior the princess knocked and entered the damp study. The smell of old parchment rushed to her nostrils. Strangely Leuthil was standing in the middle of the room with her gaze dropped as if she did not want to look at the princess in the eyes. It was surprising for Aleth to see her friend was also summoned by the king, or perhaps she was here from before. Thranduil was standing before the window with his back on them; gazing into the green forest. For the thousandth time in her life she marveled at how exceptionally tall he was very alike to the tall trees of his woods.

 

It made her uncomfortable to see how Leuthil stole her eyes from her and how Thranduil remained silent as she entered. She glanced at Leuthil for some kind of reassurance but received none as she stood before Thranduil’s desk and gave a low curtsey to his back.

 

“Brother…” she acknowledged.

 

For long moments Thranduil did not say a word nor did Leuthil move from her place. Aleth was getting really impatient and she shifted her gaze from her friend to her brother and back.

 

“I wonder Aleth…” Thranduil finally started, still gazing out of the window. “How long were you going to hide your pregnancy from me…?”

 

She could swear something fell from inside her chest, which was probably her heart. She could feel her knees shake in shame and suppressed feelings and she shivered as if she had been left outside naked in a thunderstorm. The first thought that came to her mind was that who had told them. But then she knew it did not matter…sooner or later they would’ve known. Her hand maiden was the only person who could’ve shared the knowledge but surprisingly it did not annoy the princess. In the end she would’ve been forced to tell but she was just trying to buy some time and the worried hand maiden was probably just doing what she’d thought was best for her lady. Now that her secret was out she had to face it. Hearing Thranduil say it aloud made the fact sound more real and close.

 

Thranduil turned; his anger and annoyance radiating like the sun. He watched as his sister dropped her gaze and the tears that she had tried so hard to suppress streamed down her pretty faze. But it did nothing to calm his rage. He was so tired that he had no place for secrets. He was like a tree in a deadly storm that swayed from the strong winds; each powerful blow threatening to break him. Dealing with a rebellion, moving his people, sheltering his oppressed subjects were added to his regular kingly duties. But the problem in his household, with his own sister was more complex and draining of them all. Each time he saw her face and noted the unending sorrow in her eyes he was reminded again that he had failed her. He had failed in protecting her. And the fear that she would leave him to join their father would not leave the king. He had decided to persuade her to sail if he would ever see signs of fading in her. The king however, was surprised to see that his sister was willing to fight and stay despite the grief that was eating her from inside. Thranduil was happy though he did not know the reason of her choice. Now that he knew Aleth had an unwanted life inside her and the reason for her stay was probably just an instinctive feeling he thought that he would’ve rather her sister to sail than to stay with a broken heart and the token of her torture.

 

The king circled his desk to stand in front of the princess; his tall form towering above her. She seemed much smaller and fragile as she silently sobbed; hiding from his piercing gaze that seemed to dig out her flesh like a sharp knife.

 

“How long, Aleth?” he almost yelled, which made the princess shudder and break into loud, pitiful sobs.

 

Thranduil always remembered his sister as a happy person. She was always joyful and energetic; roaming around her older brother like butterfly. Seeing her always made him forget all his problems. That glittering smile never left her face. But this, this broken and grievous girl was not his sister. These hollow eyes that shed so many tears were not those that radiated joy all these years.

 

“All my life, I’ve tried to make you happy…” he said in a more desperate tone. “All my life I’ve tried to protect you…I know that I’ve failed; but have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”

 

Aleth had nothing to say in response. She just cried harder. She was drained, helpless and broken…and so tiered of fear. The princess knew that her brother was the only family she had left but she had feared his reaction, she was so ashamed…

 

“Shshshsh…” Thranduil said in a more tender tone and collected his weeping sister in his strong arms. “It’s alright…”

 

She felt so safe in the king’s embrace that she wished she could stay there forever. Thranduil had the scent of the forest in the spring rain; he smelled like her father…and she was so desperate to have a parent hold her.

 

Thranduil held her tight and rested his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her back gently; just as he used to do when she used to cry as an elfling.

 

“It’s alright…” he whispered. “We’ll think of something…We’ll find a solution.”

 

After he made sure that she had calmed down slowly he let go of her and rubbed his eyes. Aleth wiped away her tears. She felt much lighter now that she had confessed the truth. The feeling of loneliness in her heart was replaced by great warmth. She felt much like the elfling she once was. Thranduil always used to shelter her from her parents wrath when she had done some childish mischief.

 

Thranduil was thinking as he darted his gaze from different objects not seeing them in his frantic pondering.

“I’ll send for lord Elrond…” he said distractedly. “He’s the best healer in Middle-Earth and I trust him with my life…He’ll know how to get rid of it without hurting you.”

 

At first Aleth thought that she had misheard her brother. She could feel as the sentence was carried from her ears to her mind and her senses could not digest the meaning Thranduil’s words conveyed. When she finally understood what he meant all the warmth inside her fled; replaced by cold loneliness again.

 

“ _Get rid of it_?” she asked; wishing that she had misheard.

 

She felt Leuthil shift uncomfortably in the corner of the room but her eyes were on her brother who looked up at him with surprise.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on keeping it!” Thranduil said sharply.

 

“Don’t tell me that you plan to _kill_ my child!” the princess snapped with disbelief.

 

Thranduil went a few steps closer.

“ _You’re_ child?” he said with astonishment. “This is not _your_ child Aleth…”

 

The princess opened her mouth to protest but she was interrupted by her raging brother.

“This creature will not bring you happiness Aleth…” he said with a fake calmness. “It will bring nothing but pain.”

 

Aleth looked away from those piercing eyes. Her brother had done many things for her throughout her life but how could he ask this from her. To take away the life that was growing inside her. She did not care what had caused this, she did not care who had sired it; this child was growing in her and thus it was hers; her belonging, her precious; not a thing that can be thrown away like trash.

 

Thranduil became impatient with her lack of response and he grabbed her arms to make her look at him.

 

“Whenever you look at him you will see the face of your torturers…” he hissed. “He will be nothing but filth just like them…”

 

“He’s my child!” she finally cried as she released herself from his hold as if his hands were burning her.

 

She felt a great strength rise inside her; a power that could only be found in a mother. She felt a great need to defend what was rightfully hers. Thranduil watched her with great disbelief as if his sister was not understanding a very simple logical solution and he was surprised.

 

“This is a child of rape…” he said angrily. “You cannot keep it…it’s madness!”

 

“This child is growing in my womb!” she almost screamed. “It’s mine…my own!”

 

His sister’s sudden overflow of power and courage surprised him and he stood straight as if he wanted to manifest his great height and thereby his superiority.

“I will not let a _bastard_ shame my household…” he yelled.

 

“I will not let you _kill_ my child…!” Aleth shouted back.

 

Thranduil was shocked. His sister had never opposed him so openly. She went closer to him; looking up at him with great confidence and arrogance.

“If you don’t want my child in your house hold then I will leave…” she said firmly.

 

“You cannot do that.” Thranduil hissed.

 

“Oh I can…” she said. “I am not bound to this palace and this realm…Fortunately I am not the _tyrant_ ruling them.”

 

Her words stroke Thranduil like a poisonous sword and his breath hitched as if he was injured in the chest by a hundred arrows. Aleth sentences pained him more than all the injuries he had taken in the war; more than the pain of losing his father and more than the betrayal of his people. They were darker than the shadow spreading in his forest. He felt a sharp pain flash inside his chest but he ignored it.

 

Aleth saw the flash of pain in Thranduil’s painfully beautiful features. She knew she had hurt him and she was not sorry. He was the one who had started this; he was the one who had asked her to kill her child and he deserved to be called what he was.

 

“Leave…” was all Thranduil could manage to whisper as he leaned on his desk looking as if he could not stand much longer.

 

The princess knew better than to call this a victory for herself. This war that had started between her and her brother will never have a winner. But for now she was so angry that the she did not care for the unbearable pain she’d caused Thranduil and so she gave him a mocking exaggerated curtsey.

“Majesty…” she said.

 

As she turned to leave her eyes fell on the queen who was still standing there in silence. She could not read anything from her face but concern for both her husband and her friend. Aleth had no time or energy to ponder on her as she almost threw herself out of the study.

 

When the door was slammed behind her with great force Thranduil dropped in his chair closing his eyes as he gripped his chest in pain. Leuthil ran to him worriedly. Clearly the toll of those weeks were catching up with her husband.

 

“She doesn’t know what she’s signing up for!” Thranduil said.

 

“And you don’t know what you’re asking her to do!” she said.

 

Thranduil looked up at her with emotionless eyes. A few moments passed in silence before the king sighed and covered his face with his hands.

 

“I need to be alone…” he said, his voice muffled by his palms.

 

Acknowledging her dismissal the queen nodded and placed a kiss on his golden hair before turning to leave.

 

“Leuthil, please order more wine to be sent here _immediately_ …” he said before she closed the door.

 

***

 

Aleth stormed into her room. Her rage was so severe that her sorrow had been pushed back in her mind and when she saw that Galdor was standing in her room, surprise was added to her anger.

 

She could not read anything from the steward’s face but she could clearly guess why he was in her room. Everybody seemed to be leaving her, and she couldn’t blame him for joining the others. She had started a fight with the most powerful elf in the land and this was its consequences. She knew that she would be left with no friends and not even her secret lover would remain by her side if she chose to keep a bastard child of rape.

 

“Why are you here?” she barked at Galdor mercilessly.

 

Galdor did not answer but merely turned towards her. He had never seen the princess so angry. With her hair in that unruly manner and red eyes that were burning with rage she reminded him of Oropher and Thranduil for that matter. The powerful blood of the late king rarely showed itself in his youngest daughter but it clearly was there, hidden behind the fair face. His entire life the steward had seen experienced and powerful captains and leaders silenced by that blood and now he knew well that this war between the brother and sister will burn them all and the heat radiating from the princess now was the proof for it.

 

“If you’re here to tell me you’ll leave me if I keep it, you can leave _now_ ” she yelled in his face. “I won’t kill my own child.”

 

The steward’s silence was killing Aleth. She watched as his brow tied into a deep frown and a touch of annoyance crept into his dark eyes. He sighed irritably and shook his head in disbelief.

 

“My lady, it seems that your anger has blinded you to those who love you…” he said calmly to the surprised princess. “I merely came to tell you that whatever your decision is, I respect it; and I will stand by you in whatever choice you make.”

 

Aleth was speechless. Now guilt was also added to her anger and sorrow but only she knew how heartening his words were. She felt a new power rise inside her. But Galdor was clearly wounded by her harsh behavior as he looked at her angrily before he passed her to leave the room in annoyance. Before he could reach for the handle the princess turned and grabbed his arm.

 

“Forgive me…” she whispered.

 

His dark eyes studied her with both irritation and concern. But then he sighed and opened his arms for her. She buried herself in his warm reassuring embrace and closed her eyes. The princess knew that the days she had ahead were pregnant with more fights and more hard decisions to make, but she would face them all as long as she had her lover by her side.

 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” she whispered and she felt his arms tighten around her fragile body.  

 

***

 

The days had passed slowly for the queen. Her hours were mostly spent with the people from Southernwood who were for now sheltered inside the palace. As the queen it was her dusty to take care of them. It was now a daily ritual for her to go to the wing of their residence at least five times a day. Mostly she went there with a few maidens. She observed as they cleaned the rooms and the corridors and she took care that the best food and nourishment was brought to the refugees from the king’s own stock. Thranduil had not found the time to come to them but the southerners seemed quite content with the queen’s attention. They mostly enjoyed the time that Leuthil sat and chatted with them. Sometimes some high ladies of the court would accompany her. The refugees deeply appreciated when they helped them in their daily chores or they kept their restless children occupied.

 

Soon by the king’s order classes were established for the southerner’s children. Thranduil had made it clear that he wanted no interruption in the elfling’s education and the queen was content with his word. They had lacked proper tutors but many ladies of the court had volunteered to teach the children freely.

 

But the worst condition was for the young ones in the group who were not elflings that could be occupied with education and were not old enough to be considered in the responsibilities of the adults. In her opinion they were the ones most hurt as they understood well what had happened to their home and people, yet they were not old enough to do anything about it. They just watched the carelessness of the younger kids or observed the toll of their adults; and they belonged to neither group.

 

That day as the queen walked to that particular wing she was deeply pondering on what she could do for the young lads and girls. She had a pile of towels and sheets in her arms and the mountain was so high she could hardly see anything in front of her. The number of the maids accompanying her were few this day and she had been forced to take the sheets herself as the maids were supposed to bring food.

 

Her blindness caused her trouble in the end and she ran into one of the pillars in the corridor. All the sheets and towels that were neatly folded dropped scattered around the floor. Leuthil could just sit there and cry. But she was helpless and the corridor was deserted so she sat on her knees and started gathering the sheets.

 

“You look like anything but _queen_ , my lady!” a familiar voice said.

 

Her head snapped up just to see Glorfindel approaching her. She smiled exhaustedly as the lord gave her a courteous bow before sitting on his knees himself.

 

“Oh you don’t need to bother my lord, I’ll take care of them…” she said despite how she truly appreciated a hand.

 

“It would be very unmannerly of me to leave you here with all these towels, wouldn’t it?” the lord chuckled.

 

Leuthil smiled again and they both started to fold the sheets and towels.

 

“Wasn’t there a maid to help you my lady?” he asked.

 

“No they were occupied…” she said. “With the move in progress and the spring festivals on the way, I can hardly find anyone to help with the affairs of the southerners who were brought to the palace.”

 

“I’m always here to help!” Glorfindel said merrily.

 

“You’re the captain of the Imladrian troops…” Leuthil raised her eyebrows teasingly. “Don’t you have more important things to do?”

 

“I don’t see any more important affairs than helping the Woodland Queen!” Glorfindel smiled as he took half of the sheets and towels in his arms and stood.

Leuthil did the same and together they started walking.

 

“I see you are dedicating yourself for the refugees.” Glorfindel noted. “Shouldn’t the king assign someone else for this job?”

 

“There’s no need really…” Leuthil said. “Besides, I don’t want to add to his burdens, he has enough…soon the houses near the new stronghold will be ready. The stay of the southerners here will not be long.”

 

“Not every lady is as scarifying as you…” Glorfindel said. “King Thranduil is very lucky to have you by his side.”

 

Leuthil said nothing but merely smiled. She felt comfortable with the Balrog slayer. He was becoming a good friend and she enjoyed his company. It seemed that Glorfindel felt the same.

 

“The young ones in the group are the ones I’m worried for…” the queen said. “If they had a normal life they should probably be learning agriculture and taking care of the livestock from their adults; but now they have nothing to do and it worries me…I worry for their future and the effect it has on them.”

 

Glorfindel frowned and thought for a few seconds. It surprised her how caring the queen was. To him she was even thinking about things that probably the king had to take care of. He always liked women with power and this she-elf attracted his admiration more and more within each second.

 

“Perhaps I can help with that!” he said.

 

“How?” The queen raised her eyebrows in surprise.

 

“Maybe we can engage them in the training grounds…they can learn the art of war. It will be useful for them even if they do not wish to become professional warriors in the end.” Glorfindel said. “I believe even the girls must learn some basics.”

 

Leuthil thought for a few seconds. It truly didn’t sound bad. After all they were living in dark times and no matter how much Thranduil wanted to keep his people from becoming warriors, they needed to have the ability to defend themselves.

 

“It sounds good…” she finally said. “Though I must talk Thranduil about it…”

 

Glorfindel nodded and smiled as they finally reached the corridor that housed the southerners. Leuthil wanted to take the towels from his arms but he pulled away and shook his head. The queen chuckled silently at his eagerness to help her and let him follow as she knocked on each door and handed neat sheets and towels to the families. They poked out their heads and greeted the queen and Glorfindel. When the children heard that the Balrog Slayer was there they rushed out with excitement and soon the lord was flooded with enthusiastic elflings that wanted him to tell them stories and lads that wanted at least a glimpse of the famous lord of the Golden Flower.

 

They were invited into a common room were the Silvan gathered in the evenings to pass their time and so as to not break the weary hearts of the refugees Glorfindel grabbed a chair next to the queen and they both sat.

 

He told the elflings stories of old. Of long past wars and glories that once existed. He was asked to tell the story of the Balrog at least five times over and surprisingly the elflings got more and more excited each time. Their audiences were not only the children anymore but adults had also joined the nobles in the room.

 

Leuthil watched as the lord explained the story with details, showing with bodily acts how he had wielded his sword in front of the beast and the elflings gasped at the exciting show. They held each other’s hands firmly and listened with their mouth agape. As the queen listened with a very young elfling on her lap she marveled at the contrast Glorfindel’s tales had with his character. He was a merry comfortable ellon, and it was strange to hear how he had slain orcs and foul creatures through his long life. She couldn’t believe that the fine lord next to him was in fact an unmerciful warrior. Of course his well-built body and powerful muscles were proof for his tales.

 

The queen wondered how powerful those arms were. Thranduil had a deep scar from his back to his front on the side of his body _; a token of war_ he always said. Leuthil had always admired it. In her opinion it showed the vigorous warrior that lay under his soft skin. Glorfindel was also very handsome. With his blue eyes and blond hair he could capture the heart of any maiden. The queen was curious to know if he also had scars of war or not. In her pondering her eyes roamed the lord’s body as he still was telling stories. It was wrong for her to be curious about an ellon other than Thranduil and she knew it; but the curiosity about this creature was not sexual, or at least she thought it wasn’t. This ellon was older than anybody she had ever seen and the mystery and the beauty that he carried was very radiating.

 

When their eyes met Leuthil suddenly realized that she had been watching Glorfindel for some time and now the lord was looking at him with an odd expression, as if he knew everything that was going on in her wicked mind. Immediately she stole her gaze and acted as if she was engaged with the elfling on her lap. But the lord of the Golden Flower had lived many years and had seen many maidens and he had easily noted the flush in the queen’s cheeks.

 


	49. Chapter 49

The carriage shook and rattled continuously as it found its way through the stony forest road. The red curtains were shut so that none could see the princess sitting inside. She could hear the horses and their riders around the carriage and she could see their shadows as they passed behind the curtain like the ghosts of the dead. A group of 5 were accompanying Thranduil and her to the three families they had to visit.

 

The families of the guards who had fallen protecting Aleth had received full financial support of the king, but he had wanted to visit them personally along with his sister who had been present at the horrible scene. Fearing for her condition he had insisted that she did not ride a horse which surprised the princess to great extent. She wouldn’t have been shocked if her brother had pushed her off a horse intentionally to kill her baby.

 

It was strange how her opinion had changed about Thranduil. The Silvan were traditional people, she had heard tales about raped girls who were abandoned by their families for the shame they’d caused their houses and she’d feared that destiny. But Thranduil was not a Silvan, and he was not a blind fanatic. However when he had confronted her about her pregnancy in that way the kind and loving brother she had known and broke in her eyes. Cruelly she had forgotten the compassion and care he’d shown her during her turmoil. Now she thought of him capable of anything; even killing an infant child.

 

They had already visited two of the families which had not been an easy task. They couldn’t say anything to console the families of the guards. But it seemed that they were happy from the royal family’s attention. They had accepted them in their homes with open arms not caring that the princess was the reason their loved one was dead. The hardest part of the visit was when the families asked her how their loved one had died. She had not seen it but the little she had seen had been so horrible that she wished she could erase it from her memory.

 

Aleth knew that this last visit was the hardest for Thranduil. Ardalan had been the king’s sentry for many years and not long ago Thranduil himself had looked after the young one himself when he’d been injured. Perhaps he would’ve still been alive if Galdor had not decided to exchange Thranduil’s sentries with Aleth’s. It was amazing and yet horrifying how a single decision could benefit some and send some others to the halls of Mandos. If Galdor had not decided on this act or if even Thranduil had disagreed with his choice perhaps three other sentries would’ve been killed that day.

 

The carriage came to a halt, and Aleth watched as a shadow dismounted and approached. It was Thranduil who shoved the curtain away.

“We’re here…” he said and stood back for Aleth to come out.

 

As the princess leaned down her head to get out of the carriage Thranduil stretched his hand to aid her but insolently she took hold of the carriage wall instead and descended the few steps to the forest floor. Though the act had injured Thranduil’s pride in front of his guards he said nothing and the guards seemed to look elsewhere not to discomfort their king further.

 

They were in a small village, in front of a hut. The door to the house was open and an elleth in common dress was waiting for them to approach. The siblings instantly guessed she was one of Ardalan’s two sisters.

 

“Your majesty…” she bowed unlike the court ladies who normally curtsied to the king. “Your grace…it is a great honor, please do come in.”

 

They both smiled as they entered the small house. Thranduil had to steal his head to pass the short doorframe. They were in a cozy cottage and they were lead to the sitting room where another young elleth was seated with an ellon. The elleth immediately rose and greeted them. At first it surprised Aleth that the ellon who was probably the father did not stand but then she noted that he was missing a leg. Her heart sank in her chest and she darted her gaze on Thranduil. But he was not surprised like her and from the surface of it he knew the ellon quite well.

 

“Majesty…” the ellon greeted with a weak smile and stretched his hand towards the king. “You’ve brought light to out humble home.”

 

“Sir Bahman…” Thranduil said as he took the ellon’s hands in both of his own. “It’s nice to see you after all these years.”

 

“Please take a seat your grace, your majesty…” Bahman pointed at the couches.

 

The royals complied as they sat next to each other and they were immediately offered tea by one of the girls. The hot liquid was quite successful in warming Aleth’s cold hands. Both girls sat the opposite side of the sitting room next to their disabled father. They’re faces were much alike and they had the red hair of the Silvan and they wore simple dresses of common people. Somehow Aleth felt a bit over dressed despite the fact that she was wearing a simple dark blue garment and no jewelry unlike the costume of the royal family.  

 

“I wished you could’ve met my sister under better circumstances sire…” Thranduil started as he shot a faint reassuring smile towards Aleth. The princess felt her cheeks warm as all the attention was drawn to her.

 

“It is a great pleasure to meet you lady Aleth…” Bahman smiled. “You have inherited your king father’s exceptional golden hair…and you have the dazzling beauty of the late Queen Harma.”

 

“Thank you sire…” was all Aleth could manage. All the air had left her lungs when she had entered the house. The time to time curious glances of the girls did not help he situation either. She felt out of place and guilty for the death of their brother.

 

“I hope you receive the aid I send you…” Thranduil said after a few moments.

 

“We do my king…and we are most thankful.” The ellon said. “Though such generosity was not necessary.”

 

“I know that your son was the only source of income for your household.” Thranduil said. “He fell protecting my family. It is my duty to protect his.”

 

Aleth was surprised from the new information. She had not known Thranduil was sending financial aid to the families of the fallen. But then of course it was not customary for the king to discuss his decisions with her. Though she was most happy that her brother had been so thoughtful she couldn’t shake the annoyance she felt at having been left aside from the choice that somehow was related to her.

 

Thranduil mind though was somewhere else. He was scanning the house and its inhabitants with his sharp eyes to see what may be needed in the small dwelling. On the other hand his attention was focused on keeping the conversation going and since Aleth was not helping a bit all the toll was on his own shoulders. He watched as Bahman smiled though the smile was weak and tormented. The girls had dropped their heads by the mention of their brother. All of these made Thranduil choke and he cursed his helplessness.

 

“Your son’s death was a great loss to us all…” he said tenderly praying that he would be successful in conveying his true feelings.

 

Bahman leaned forward and darted his gaze from Thranduil to Aleth who had dropped her head in shame and could not look at the father who had lost his son.

“Do not grieve for Ardalan for if he ever thought of dying he wanted to die as he did.” He smiled sorrowfully. “…he wanted to die protecting our king’s family, just as I wanted to die following your father to war.”

 

Aleth then realized that the ellon had probably lost his leg in the war. It broke her heart to see this family so much hurt because of them. The men of this dwelling had been tormented so much on their behalf; one losing his leg following her father to war and the other losing his life protecting her. She wished the the earth would open up and swallow her in hope that she would not feel so much shame. The warm hand that reached hers almost made her jump and she realized Bahman had placed his hand on hers looking at her with deep grey eyes.

 

“Iell-nin do not blame yourself…” he said tenderly then he looked deep in her eyes. “Can I ask you something?

 

“Of course sire…” Aleth said.

 

“You were there when my son fell…” bahman said. “Tell me, did my son die honorably?”

 

The question made her heart beat like a drum and her hands lost all warmth again. The truth was that she had not even seen her guards die but had merely discovered their slaughtered corpses. By the sight of it her sentries had been given no time for honorable fight or death but they were just butchered like animals. She looked at Thranduil for help but her brother had dropped her head, not even looking at her. She looked back at the expectant eyes of the father who had lost a beloved son and with all the strength she could muster she nodded.

 

“Yes sire…” she whispered. “He did.”

 

Bahman seemed content with her answer and he squeezed her cold hands.

“Your father brought us security and a good life and he died for his silvan subjects. We know that ruling an endangered land such as Greenwood is not an easy task…” he said kindly as he darted his gaze on Thranduil for a moment and back on his sister. “Your brother has done a great job protecting these people. We love him, and we love you iell-nin because you are the children of the king who we cherished. Protecting you is an honor. So do not grieve for my son but merely try to do your best for these people as you have always done. His faer will be happy to know this…”

***

 

 

When they finally walked out of the door Aleth let out a breath she did not know she was holding. Thranduil was silent as he had been silent for the last hour. Without looking at him she started to walk towards the carriage but his hand on her arm stopped her and she turned towards him.

 

“We need to talk…” he said.

 

“If it’s about killing infant children I have nothing to talk to you about…” she snapped.

 

Thranduil frowned and looked at her with annoyed and angry eyes. He stood tall as he knew his exceptional height made anyone feel small.

 

“I may be your brother but I am also your king…” he said in a dangerously calm tone. “I do not know what has given you the impression that you’re allowed to talk to me like that.”

 

If they were younger the princess would’ve probably laughed at that. But Thranduil’s expression was grave and she was also not in the good mood she used to be.

 

“Forgive me majesty…” she said mockingly, giving a sarcastic curtsey.

 

“Come…” Thranduil ordered and he turned towards a secluded place. Aleth followed obediently.

 

When the king made sure they were out of the guards’ earshot he halted and waited for his sister to reach him. He did not look at her as she stood next to him but scanned the forest scenery in front of him. For long moments he was silent as if he was trying to collect his sentences. Aleth remembered her brother well when he was a young prince. He was the most mischievous creature in the land but when he wanted to talk about something he always lacked words. Their mother was patient with him but Oropher used to lash out with impatience when it took Thranduil too much time to gather his words and as a result the prince talked to him less and less. The problem had faded in her brother during the years of kingship and hard conversations. He was now a skillful speaker and a shrewd negotiator. But his strange silence now made the princess recall memories of the past.

 

“You know I have your best interest in mind…” the king finally said.

 

“I’m sorry but I fail to see that nowadays…” Aleth said poisonously which made Thranduil turn towards her.

 

“I love you, and I only want to protect you from further harm…” he said. “Yet you’re not making it easier.”

 

Aleth said nothing but merely looked away. She understood Thranduil’s reasoning but could not accept it. She was becoming a mother. She could feel the tiny faer growing inside her…she could not explain the feeling but she knew she could not deal with it using logic.

 

“This unborn child in already causing distance between us…” Thranduil said.

 

“It is not my child who is causing distance…” she said as she looked at her brother sharply. “It is _you_.”

 

Thranduil pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw but did not react to his sister’s harsh words. He still remembered that she had called her a tyrant not two days ago and he was still heartbroken. He chose to go straight to what he wanted to say to avoid being hurt by her stinging words again.  

 

“I gave this issue a lot of thought…” he finally said. “I still do not approve of keeping it. But if this is your wish, if this makes you happy…you may keep your child…yet under my conditions.”

 

Aleth did not dare to feel the tingle of joy that was crawling in her heart. She frowned and looked at her brother with all the authority she could muster which was nothing comparing to Thranduil’s radiating power.

 

“I am listening…” she said.

 

“If you wish to give birth to this child, you need to marry…” he said. “And I will have it fast.”

 

Aleth had fainted in that very moment if she wasn’t a strong elleth. She knew that her heart would probably burst out of her chest and kill her. Her hands were sweaty and her head swung. The first thing that came to her mind was Galdor and the love she had for him. She would lose him forever. He would never forgive her if she would marry another. He would never look at her again. The next thing that came to her mind was a picture of herself with an unknown ellon whom in her mind was exceptionaly ugly.

 

“No-one will marry me…” she smirked. “No-one wants a ruined elleth as a wife.”

 

“I’ve already taken care of that…” Thranduil said casually.

 

“Are you telling me that you’ve found me a husband?” the princess raised her eyebrows.

 

Thranduil made a gesture between shrugging his shoulders and nodding which made Aleth’s eyebrows go even higher.

“He’s one of the captains of the royal guards, his name in Lyndon. I don’t know if you remember him but he was one of my opponents for the captain post long ago. He’s very loyal to our family and was aware of the attack on you since he was there when we found you in the forest…” Thranduil explained as Aleth listened patiently. “I talked to him about your condition and he’ll help us…” the king finally looked at his sister with a touch of well reserved compassion. “He’s quite handsome, and I know he’ll make you happy…” he said. “Of course it will be beneficial for both sides since I’ve promised him a place in the court among the advisors.”

 

“You mean you’ve _bought_ me a husband…” Aleth smirked bitterly. “And you’ll just marry me off in a trade like property.”

 

“I really wished the circumstances were different…but we’re the royal family Aleth, all eyes are constantly upon us.” Thranduil said sharply, losing his calm demeanor. “Do not expect me to let you roam around with a swollen belly and no husband to justify it.”

 

Aleth was choking with the lump in her throat and she was pitifully losing the fight to suppress her tears. No matter how much she thought, she couldn’t understand why and how everything went so out of hand. Thranduil was right. No-one would accept a pregnant elleth with no husband, certainly not their traditional society. She would be banished if not by her family, by her people. And she would lose the reason she had been able to stay in Middle-Earth; Galdor. It was a choice between her love and her child.

 

“So you’ll just force me into a loveless marriage…” She whispered.

 

“If I wanted to force you into marriage I would’ve done it a long time ago…” Thranduil said desperately. “But you leave me no choice…”

 

 A long heavy silence fell upon the siblings. Thranduil watched the princess and she looked at anything but her brother.

 

“My king…” a guard snapped them out of their thoughts. “The hour is late. Perhaps we should get back to the palace.”

 

Thranduil nodded and waved the sentry away before looking at the princess.

“Think about it and tell me…”

 

“I accept.” Aleth interrupted him.

 

Thranduil raised his eyebrows in surprise. Shocked from Aleth’s sudden change of mind he nodded.

“I’ll…I’ll arrange for you to meet then…” he said.

 

Aleth nodded and turned. Without saying a word she walked towards the carriage as the sentries mounted they horses. They started their short journey towards the palace after the king mounted his huge stallion. The sound of the wheels on the stone was so loud that no-one heard the princess’s silent sobs from behind the red curtains.

 

***

 

The elleth had been standing in the shadows for a long time. Passing the Elvenking’s borders was no longer considered an easy task since Imladrian soldiers were added to the Wood-elf guards. One could hardly find a gap between their patrols to enter the land. This she-elf was also smart enough to know that king Thranduil was probably looking for her. After the event with the humans she knew the king’s personal guards would come after her and after spotting the Elvenking’s spies very close to her house she had been forced to move deeper into the realm of men. Thranduil had been so eager to catch her that he had broken the protocols and had sent his troops inside the land of the men, but she knew that even the Elvenking was not bold enough to intrude the neighbor land more than a few miles. He couldn’t risk the consequences. But no matter how hard it had been for her to stay hidden from the sharp eyes of the soldiers she had been able to pass the borders through the trees. Imladrian guards were not so familiar with Silvan ways and so they had dismissed her for an animal or a creature living in the trees. As hard as it was to travel miles on foot to reach one of the villages close to the capital she had done it for the sake of the sight that was before her now. And despite the fatigue she felt she knew she couldn’t miss perhaps the last opportunity to see her.

 

The river passed through the village and went out to the wild woods again. Where she stood was a secluded area a little distance from the crowded center of the settlement. A young elleth was sitting beside the river. She had shoved the skirt of her common dress up to her slender knees and had her feet in the water. She had a vase on her lap and was dyeing it with a few dyes she had in jars around her.

 

Malin walked a few steps closer though she stood again with a distance from the elleth who was so deeply engaged with her art craft that couldn’t even sense the other she-elf staring at her. She scanned the girl, taking every single detail to her memory as she knew she might never again see her again. The young girl’s aquamarine eyes were fixed on the vase and her thick brow was knit in concentration. In contrast to her pale skin, her hair was black as night. Her hands moved skillfully, holding the brush with a confidence that Malin had only seen in one other person long ago who had painted the trees of the woodland forest on the wall of his chamber, though he had not used dyes but burned wood. For the thousandth time she noted how similar the elleth hands were to his.

 

The girl straightened her back and finally looked up. When she saw the elleth gazing at her she beamed and rose from her place with excitement. As the young girl jumped from rock to rock to pass the river Malin could feel her heart beat rise; she felt a sickening excitement as the girl approached her and finally hugged her in a friendly embrace.

 

“Malin!” the elleth laughed. “It’s been a long time my friend!”

 

They broke apart and the elleth scanned her with excitement. Malin pointed at the vase still in her hand.

“What’s this!?” she asked.

 

“Just a vase…” the girl shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

 

“It’s beautiful…” the other commented. “Your art seems to grow within each say.”

 

“You exaggerate…” the young one smirked. Then she scanned the elleth in front of her. “Where have you been?”

 

“I had some work to attend to…” Malin dismissed the question. Her eyes then darted towards the village that was in a chaos. “You’re moving…”

 

The girl glanced back at her village and then looked back at her friend. “Yes we’ll leave for the north in a few days.” She explained. “The group sent by the king helped us a lot…most of our belongings have already been taken to the new settlement.”

 

Malin did not comment but merely kept looking at the villagers who were running around and packing. Her expression seemed sad but if the girl noticed she didn’t say anything about it.

“King Thranduil has been very efficient in the move…” the younger one commented.

 

“It’s not _his_ efficiency. He’s merely surrounded with people more capable than him.” Malin rolled her eyes. “This move only shows his inability to protect this land.”

 

“Would you have done better?!” the girl snapped sharply which made Malin look at her with round eyes. “You only criticize…” she continued when the older elleth didn’t answer. “With this darkness descending I doubt anyone could have done better than him.”

 

Malin sighed but said nothing. She knew answering her friend back would probably cause an argument and she didn’t want the cursed king Thranduil to ruin the little time with she had left with the younger girl.

 

“Shahrzad!” someone called the girl from behind them and both girls turned towards the ellon standing next to the river. The elf was tall and strong with the common red hair of the silvan, and he was calling the girl named Shahrzad with a tingle of anger in his voice. “Come…we’ve got loads to do.”

 

“Just a moment Ada…” Shahrzad nodded and then turned towards Malin who was watching her father with emotionless eyes.

“Will you not join the move…” the girl asked, which made Malin take her eyes off the ellon.

 

“No, I’m planning to move to the Southernwood.” She said which made Shahrzad’s eyebrows shoot up.

 

“You know they are banished from the realm…” she said in a low tone as if fearing that someone might hear them. “They are considered traitors. The king has sworn to make their lives a living hell for the lives they’ve taken.”

 

“I know…” Malin nodded with a smile. “But I will not move with the king I hate…”

 

“I never understood the reason behind this hatred.” Shahrzad rolled her eyes and smiled, manifesting high cheekbones that again resembled old memories for the older elleth. “Then I guess we shall never see each other again.” The girl said sorrowfully.

 

Malin took a step closer and cupped the younger one’s face making her look up with huge aquamarine eyes.

“We eldar live a long time Shahrzad…” she said. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again my friend.”

 

Shahrzad smiled and hugged the other elleth. Malin closed her eyes and tried to memorize every detail of that feeling. She breathed in the girl’s ebony hair as she knew she might never smell her scent again. From the moment she had changed her name so many years ago she had never felt the need to tell the truth so much. She wanted to run and scream her real name and then look into shahrzad’s eyes and tell her who she truly was.

 

“Shahrzad…”

 

“Coming father…” the girl said as she broke the embrace and smiled once again before she ran to the ellon.  

 

Malin watched as the elf talked to Shahrzad and sent the girl on a task. Shahrzad walked to towards the village waving her hand for Malin as she on her way.

The ellon however was still standing there and when he made sure his daughter was out of sight he approached Malin with anger.

 

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

 

“Calm down Esfandyar…” Malin glared. “I merely came to say goodbye.”

 

“I took Shahrzad from you with the condition that you never come into her life…” Esfandyar said. “But you’ve been breaking that promise ever since she was a baby.”

 

“I’m a mother…” she said desperately.

 

“And a mother who gave up her child…” the ellon pointed out.

 

“Do not worry…” Malin said. “For she will be out of my reach when you move north.”

 

The ellon’s expression softened and the elleth could even see signs of pity in his eyes.

“It’s better that you’ll be out of her life…” he said softer. “We look after her like our own daughter as we’ve always done.”

 

Malin merely nodded as the knot in her throat did not let her speak anymore. She turned from the ellon and started walking back towards the dark woods; towards the shadows that would consume her. She wondered as she always did that what would’ve been different if she was not sent away from the prince’s chamber that night so many centuries ago. What would have happened if the prince-now king- would’ve fallen in love with her instead of another elleth who knew nothing of him. A girl who did not knew his hands when he painted or his fingers when he played the harp nor did she knew that frown of thick eyebrows and the blue flames in his eyes. These things did not matter now that so many years had passed. No love remained in her heart these days. Now she only wanted revenge. She merely wanted to cause pain to who had ruined her life and separated her from her daughter.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had an unforgivable delay in updating. I don't know why this chapter was so hard to write!  
> Anyway I hope you're still with me...  
> Thanks again for the kudos and the comments.

Aleth now knew very well that her room was exactly 12 paces long, though she couldn’t count how many times she had crossed the length of the damn chamber. She had vomited five times that day due to her pregnancy and she felt nausea again now, though for a different reason. It was as if they were washing clothes in her stomach. She could feel her insides go up and down with anxiety.

 

She had rehearsed what she wanted to say many times and each time had been different and more pathetic than the last. She hated herself. She hated how weak she was and how she was a prisoner to her faith. Many times she had confessed to herself that Thranduil’s argument for her marriage was not entirely illogical but still she couldn’t shake the feeling of being sold as a property. Perhaps if she had not been in love with Galdor she would’ve accepted this arranged marriage easier. Perhaps she could’ve opened her heart to this new ellon in her life but now it was impossible. Unintentionally Thranduil had placed her in and impasse between her beloved and her unborn child. Instinctively she sought to protect her child from the hands of the healers who would take away his life. No matter how medical it sounded, in her view it was no different from murder. She would not have it.

 

It was a lie if she would say that she had not thought about running away. The truth was that she had imagined her escape a thousand times during those days. In her imagination Galdor had followed her and they had both started a simple life as simple citizens in Imladris or the Goldenwood. But she had dismissed the though each time. The princess knew Galdor would never follow her if she’d do such a thing. He would never work against the king. And if she was honest with herself she didn’t think she could survive a life outside the palace that had always protectively sheltered her.

 

There was a light knock on the door and before she turned the steward rushed into the room with haste. For a moment he scanned her with eyes wild with concern.

 

“Aleth, are you alright?!” he asked frantically.

 

“I’m fine…” she said calmly. “I just wanted to talk to you…”

 

Galdor rushed to her and gathered her in a tight embrace, sighing in relief.

“When you called for me in the middle of the day I thought something was wrong…” he breathed in her hair and closed his eyes. Aleth was stiff in his arms but knowing that it was perhaps the last time he would hold her like this, she gradually relaxed into the embrace and took in his masculine scent.

 

To her disappointment Galdor slowly broke apart and held her in an arm’s length so that he could see her face.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about…?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes. His dark pupils burned her to the core and for a moment she thought her strength would fail her. But she needed to do it.

 

“Thranduil has been swayed to let me keep the baby…” Aleth said.

 

There was a flash of surprise in the steward’s eyes. But then his expression changed to happiness. He grinned and his eyes twinkled with delight.

 

“Well that’s great news!” he said joyfully. “Why are you still upset?”

 

Her insides turned again. Her heart felt heavy inside her chest.

“He has placed a condition.” She murmured.

 

Galdor raised his eyebrows. His heart started a fast beat. From Aleth’s expression and how she avoided his gaze he knew some terrible news was in the way. “What is it Aleth?” he asked fearfully.

 

“I have to marry whom he says if I wish to have my child.” Aleth said, still not looking at the steward. “…And I assume he’s already found someone.”

 

If he had been caught in a flood it would’ve been easier. If he was stabbed by a poisonous dagger the pain had been more bearable. His heart seized to beat for a few moments and his mind stopped working. Thranduil had indeed decided to marry off his sister. Not just any elleth; but Oropher’s only daughter; his own sister. This was too much. This was way too much. Thranduil was thinking about the family’s reputation, he was trying to decide with reason; Galdor understood him. But this was Aleth they were talking about, not just any other elleth.

 

The steward had loved this girl for almost his entire life. He couldn’t remember a time when he had not loved her. But then he had been caught between brother and sister. Loving the sister was betraying the brother. He had been a coward. He had not talked to Thranduil sooner and now all seemed lost.

 

“Will you accept?” he asked in a broken tone, secretly hoping that she had not.

 

“I have no choice…” she said and shattered all his hopes.

 

“So you’re giving up on us…” Galdor whispered.

 

“I can’t let him kill my child…” Aleth reasoned.

 

“But you can let go of us so easily…” the steward said.

 

Aleth opened her mouth to argue but she was silenced by Galdor’s raised hand, gesturing that he did not wish to hear further. He gazed at her silently, disappointment showing clearly on his features. He turned on his hills then. Before opening the door he hesitated and looked back at the princess who was standing in the middle of the room, sobbing silently. It seemed that he wanted to say something to her but he changed his mind and opening the door he left.

 

***

 

The king and his sister went out of the gates while a heavy silence lingered between them. Even from that distance from the contest pitch the uproar of the excited audience could be heard. They could even feel the anticipation before the competitions.

 

As they walked down the stone stairs Aleth thought that how far that happiness and excitement seemed to her. It had been a very long time since she was happy and she knew that she would never smile again. The sorrow that was pulling her heart apart would always stay there. Her colorful expensive dresses and her shining tiaras may show her strong and beautiful but she knew the truth. She was not different from the commonest girls who were forced into a loveless marriage.

 

Beside her Thranduil felt no better. The sound of the far away cheers had taken him back to centuries ago when he had fought hard in the same competition to gain the captain post. He knew that the captain post was merely a metaphor of what he wanted. He wanted his father’s approval so much. And he hoped vainly that his victory would make his father proud. Now he knew that his father had every right not to be proud of him. He was a failure. He always was. He failed to be a prince worthy of Oropher, he failed to be a king worthy of Greenwood and he even had failed to be a good brother to Aleth. Thranduil had failed in protecting his father and then he had left the mighty king’s body in the marches to rot. Then he had failed to be the king his land deserved, surrendering it to the darkness. He had failed to protect his people just as he had failed to protect his own sister; the simplest task that any ellon would achieve easily. And now he so pathetically wanted to cover his own faults by trying to make the surface of things look perfect. He hated himself for that.

 

“He’s a nice ellon…” he broke the silence. “You’ll see.” He knew his words were more to pacify himself than Aleth.

 

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re selling me like property…” Aleth said sharply.

 

Thranduil abruptly came to a halt and turned to his sister with burning eyes. But when he talked his voice sounded more desperate than angry.

 

“I wished you could put yourself in my shoes…” he said. “Perhaps then you would’ve understood.”

 

Before Aleth could open her mouth to answer him back, the king turned on his heels and walked a few steps before her. Obediently she followed. As they walked people passed them and bowed hastily. Then they ran towards the field for the exciting game. Finally the siblings reached a secluded area where was desolate accept for an ellon who was standing alone and seemed to be waiting for them. When he saw them approaching he met them half way and bowed to the king courteously.

 

“Your majesty…” he said and then bowed to the princess. “Your Grace…”

 

“My lady this is captain Lyndon, one of our best warriors in the land.” Thranduil said and then he looked back at the ellon. “Lyndon, you know my sister…”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance lady Aleth.” Lyndon said with a smile as he bowed his head.

 

Aleth noted that two small holes appeared on his cheeks when he smiled that made him very cute. He had the blond hair of the Sindar which was no surprise since Thranduil would never choose a Silvan for her to marry even though he strongly denied the fact that deep inside he had a tendency towards his own Sindar kin. The ellon was of medium height and he was well-built. His grey eyes were warm and gentle like a breeze in the heart of summer. As a whole he was a handsome elf, one that any girl would dream to marry and Aleth had to confess that if he did not now have a taste for red-brown hair and dark eyes she may have fallen for this elf’s beauty.

 

“The pleasure’s all mine…” she said coldly her eyes scanning up and down the ellon’s form as if she was purchasing a horse.

 

“I leave you for now…” Thranduil said to Aleth. “Don’t be late for the game…”

 

“I’ll accompany the princess to the royal pavilion my king…” Lyndon said kindly. “Do not worry…”

 

“I’m sure you would…” Thranduil said in a strangely emotionless tone. The coldness in his eyes as he looked at the captian surprised Aleth. Then the king nodded to Aleth and left.

 

Lyndon bowed and Aleth curtsied behind him and they both followed his trail with their eyes as he walked away. Now the hardest part had begun; to talk to someone she barely knew.

 

“Shall we walk…?” Aleth said.

 

“Whatever you prefer my lady…” he agreed.

 

They started walking slowly. Moments passed in silence and each second was harder than the last. The princess had rehearsed her sentences a thousand times before this meeting but now her mind was blank. She didn’t know where to start and somehow this ellon was too nice to be attacked by the harsh words she’d prepared.

 

“Your lord brother has told me of your…condition.” Lyndon finally broke the silence. “Are you in pain or any kind of discomfort my lady?”

 

The too bold question made Aleth stop walking instinctively and she looked at the captain with piercing blue eyes and raised eyebrows. Her intent was to show him how inappropriate his question had been but she only saw sympathy in those grey orbs.

 

“I’m sorry my lady. I did not wish to pry…” he said before she could lash out. “I merely wish for us to at least be friends.”

 

It took Aleth a few moments to calm down. She sighed and swept her palms across her face. She needed to get on with this business fast.

“My lord I do not wish to lie to you…” she said firmly. “But I merely accepted this arrangement because of my unborn child.”

 

“I understand…” Lyndon whispered.

 

“You should also understand that I’ve been through a lot and I might never be able to consummate this marriage…” she said. “So if you cannot accept this condition due to your pride, which I totally understand…please annul this now and do not give my brother false hope.”

 

Lyndon scanned her for a while and then to Aleth’s surprise he smiled.

“May I be frank my lady?!” he asked, still chuckling.

 

Aleth raised her eyebrows, but then she nodded.

 

“I’m not doing this to gain a pretty royal wife or a place in the court which your lord brother has so kindly offered me…” Lyndon said. “I am aware of your condition and what you’ve been through…and I promise you that I would never expect you to do anything you do not desire.”

 

Aleth had to confess this ellon was full of surprises. She had expected that he would run away after her harsh words and yet he acted completely different.

 

“I was a child when I travelled with my parents to Greenwood. We followed king Oropher here after years of hardship, war and exile. He promised to give us a new life after the horrible things we’d been through and he stood true to his word.” Lyndon continued. “We had nothing when we came here and we are forever in debt to king Oropher. You and king Thranduil are his memoir. He lives in you. I’m merely doing this as an answer for all the late king did for us.”

 

Aleth was always aware of the authority and love the people held for her father specially the travelers who immigrated with him to Grenwood. It made her proud to hear these words yet again; to know that her father was still remembered and cherished after all those years. She remembered a time when they had feared that Oropher would be criticized or remembered badly because of his false command in war which sent two third of their army to death. Aleth had to give that credit to Thranduil who had worked hard to erase that recollection of his father.

 

“I still do not understand…” she said puzzled. “You have a chance for a normal life. To live freely and seek out your one true love. Why would you kill that chance?”

 

Lyndon smiled; bitterly and he shook his head.

“I’ve already found my one true love…” he said. Aleth gazed at him with surprise. “Yet he sailed a few years past.”

 

“ _He_?!” she asked, thinking that she’d probably misheard, but Lyndon nodded with pure pain in his eyes.

 

“Yes my lady…” he said with a bitter smile. “Our families could not accept the love of two ellons…and he could not withstand the cruelty by which we were treated. The eldar could not accept our love, but he hoped that perhaps the Valar would, so he left…”

 

The princess was out of words for a long while. She was not unfamiliar with this concept but she could not fathom that such an attractive ellons who was probably rough due to his military status could have interest in the same sex. In the end she could just marvel on how strange and tragic love could be.

 

“Why have you not joined him?” she asked still mesmerized by the new information.

 

“Middle-Earth still calls to me, but in the end I will…” Lyndon said. “I believe we have a pain in common. I can see that you’ve already given your heart away…your eyes show that you hold someone dear.”

 

Aleth dropped her gaze. She’d felt sad by Lyndon’s tale but she suddenly remembered that perhaps her own tale would be just as sorrowful. Perhaps Lyndon could at least be a friend to her. Perhaps he could make this pain a bit tolerable.

 

“We should go back to the field…” she whispered.

 

Lyndon nodded in silence and offered his arm which she took hesitantly and they both started walking towards the pitch.

 

 

They reached the royal pavilion just as they were preparing to start the match. On the first rows the members of the royal court and the councilors of the king were seated. On the highest row Thranduil was sitting in the middle in dark green robes and the crown of leaves which was green due to the beautiful spring. On his left the queen was seated holding her husband’s arm casually. She looked more stunning due to her pregnancy and with her fancy robes she was a sight to behold. Leuthil smiled at Aleth reassuringly as she approached. Galdor was seated beside the queen. The princess couldn’t remember a time that she’d seen the steward so sullen and bitter. He eyed her and Lyndon sharply. If looks could kill then the captain would’ve been dead by then. Aleth did not miss how Galdor gritted his teeth and glared at the sight before he looked away as if what he saw disgusted him. Lyndon escorted the princess to her seat and before leaving he leaned and kissed her hand, then he bowed at the king which Thranduil merely acknowledged with a nod.

 

Thranduil watched as the ellon walked down the stairs to take his place among the captains. For the hundredth time he contemplated if his choice had been right. If he was handing his sister to a trustable person. He wished that he had another option, he wished that he could leave Aleth to make her own choices but there was no time for sentiments. Sooner or later her belly would swell and he needed to have and explanation. He couldn’t tell the entire realm that the princess was raped by lowly mortals and he didn’t even know which one was the father. His subjects would never accept this; they would never follow someone who couldn’t even protect his own sister.

 

“He’ll make you happy…I’m sure of it.” he said to Aleth who snorted bitterly.

 

The queen heard the words and bitterness filled her heart. She understood why Thranduil was doing this but she knew how hard it was for Aleth as well. It was not easy to lose everything in one night, and she desperately wished she could do something for her lifetime friend and the steward whom she loved like her own brother. Beside her Galdor was almost in flames. He had been so sullen that Thranduil had eyed him curiously a few times. He also heard the sentences the king exchanged with his sister and instinctively he clenched his firsts on his lap so tight that his knuckles became white. Leuthil poked him on his side and when she gained his attention she glared at him. She needed to make him cautious of what he was doing or else Thranduil would understand and the king was sharp for his own sake.

 

Fortunately the sound of the horns took their attention away and the king was so engaged in watching the march in front of him that he missed the glare fight taking place beside him.

 

The game began after the traditional march. The contest had not changed in those many years. But for the king it wasn’t interesting anymore. Few times during these centuries the match had been exciting as it had been before. But as he was contemplating in the past he noticed a soldier among the opponents that had an upper hand in almost each stage of the game. Almost all his arrows hit the heart of the hay puppet and his knives were thrown with force and confidence. Thranduil watched the young ellon closely as he rode his horse with a straight back. He was not very tall but he was lithe and skillful, his red hair swung in the air as he fought his opponents through each stage of the game. Somehow it reminded Thranduil of himself when he was at that age struggling in the same game.

 

“That ellon is great…” he heard Leuthil whisper in his ear and he had to agree when the young one knocked out his competitor with a forceful punch in the face.  The game had probably taken hours but for the king it had passed so fast that he was surprised when Holgailion lifted the young one’s arm and announced him as the winner.

 

The applause of the audience was deafening as they rose to their feet. Thranduil’s heart swelled as he remembered how he had once stood there. How his heart had burst out of his chest when he had felt the firm touch of Holgailion’s hand as he had announced him as winner those many years ago. But he had sought only one appraisal then. His eyes had only searched in the royal pavilion in the seat that he himself was occupying now. He remembered how he needed the approval of the occupant of that seat and somehow he felt sorry for himself now that he thought of those days.

 

They descended the stairs to go to the throne hall of the palace. Soon this young ellon would come there to receive his captain uniforms and a newly sewed flag of Greenwood and Thranduil was for the first time excited to see the new captain of his army.

 

***

 

The young ellon was standing in front of the king with his head courteously dropped as Holgailion was saying his usual speech.

The king was observing the ellon with hawk eyes. His features reminded him of someone but he could not recall. By now he had known that his name was Erhan. Finally Holgailion finished and asked the soldier to kneel and say the oath. But instead of obeying the young one lifted his head and looked at the king straight in the eyes.

 

“May I say something before we begin your majesty?” he asked confidently.

 

Thranduil raised his eyebrows but it was Holgailion that answered the ellon.

“Soldier this is a military ceremony…” he barked. “You can say your words afterwards.”

 

“Say what you need to say soldier…” the king said gently, raising a hand to calm Holgailion. The confidence of this young one was mesmerizing and he indeed wanted to know what he had to say.

 

“Your majesty, taking the captain uniforms and the flag of our land from your hands is a great honor…” he started. “But it is not my wish…”

 

Thranduil raised his eyebrows higher. The captain post was the deepest wish of every soldier in the army. And if it was not what this ellon wanted why had he participated in the match in the first place.

 

“Then why did you sign up for this?” the king asked.

 

“Because I had no choice my king…” Erhan said. “I wanted one thing when I joined the army; to find a place among your bodyguards. But although I had all the qualities, my superiors denied my request over and over again, and so I had to participate in the games to gain your attention my king.”

 

Thranduil furrowed his brow. He had to say the soldier had been quite successful in his attempt. Indeed Erhan was exceptionally skillful and he could’ve easily gained a place among his sentries. He couldn’t understand why he had been denied.

 

“Lord Alheru…” the king called sharply. “Is this true?”

 

His father in law went a few steps closer. “It’s true your majesty.” He simply said and the king did not miss the meaningful glance the lord exchanged with Galdor who was standing on Thranduil’s right.

 

Thranduil was surprised and partly angry. A soldier with these skills should never be denied what he wished. “And why is that?” he said stingingly.

 

“I was the one who denied this post from this soldier sire…” Galdor said from behind him, which made Thranduil turn on his seat with surprise.

 

“You know I want equal opportunity for everyone…” the king barked. “Why has a soldier with such skills been denied the post he wishes?”

 

Again the lords exchanged looks and Thranduil was smart enough to know there was a story behind this. The fact made him angrier. “Explain!” he ordered the steward.

 

“My king sir Erhan had hidden important personal information from us the day he had joined the army.” Galdor said with confidence.

 

“What kind of information?” the king asked surprised.

 

“Sir Erhan is sir Bahman’s younger son, which makes him the brother of your deceased sentry Ardalan.” Galdor explained.

 

Thranduil turned to the soldier who had dropped his head in defeat.

“When he had requested a place among your sentinels I checked his background as I do for all your sentries. I do not know why, but he had hidden this information from us.” Galdor continued. “So I became suspicious and denied his request.”

 

“Is this true?” Thranduil asked the young one who seemed discouraged.

 

“It is my lord…” the soldier whispered.

 

“Do explain…” the king ordered.

 

The soldier shifted his weight from one leg to another. It took him some time to answer the king back and his face showed pain and shame.

“I was not a son worthy of my father, unlike my older brother who always made our family proud…” he started. “I left home a few years ago after a fight with my father and brother…I learned that I was wrong but it was too late to fix my wrongs. After they brought me the news that my brother has fallen I knew there was no more time to ask for his forgiveness anymore. Ardalan loved you, your majesty. So I decided to take his place among your sentries in his honor, perhaps I’d be able to make his soul happy.”

 

After his words silence sank upon the room. Thranduil gazed at Galdor who shook his head. The steward never did anything with doubt when it came to his king. But Thranduil believed Erhan, and Galdor’s cautiousness was annoying him. The king understood this ellon. He had also once been the less praised son as well and somehow this young soldier reminded him of himself.

 

“Do you still wish for a place among my guards?” the king asked firmly. Galdor shifted uncomfortably beside him but Thranduil chose to ignore him.

 

“With all my heart your majesty…” the soldier said passionately.

 

“You understand that according to our laws you may never take any other military post…?”  Thranduil reminded.

 

“I understand…” Erhan nodded. “I still want this.”

 

“Then go take your post…” Thranduil ordered as he pointed behind his seat where already one of his sentries was standing.

The soldier’s eyes widened. He ran towards the king and knelt before him, kissing his hand.

 

“I will serve you loyally my king…” he declared breathlessly.

 

Thranduil nodded taping his new sentry on the shoulder.

 

***

 

“I don’t understand why you made exceptions for this soldier…” The king said angrily as he pushed the door of his study hard and entered. Galdor followed him inside and closed the door behind him while he listened to Thranduil’s scolding silently.

“You know the laws, and you know that I want equal chances for everyone…” Thranduil continued. “I really didn’t expect such an action from you!”

 

“I’m sorry my king…” Galdor whispered, not even looking his liege in the eyes. “I merely sought to protect you.”

 

Thranduil sighed and walked a few steps closer to the steward. He was angry. Galdor could feel it. He could also feel how the king was trying not to show his annoyance.

 

“Galdor, it is not right to deny someone his rights just because you are overprotective of me!” Thranduil said firmly.

 

Still Galdor did not believe that Erhan was telling the whole truth. Still he did not think it a good idea for that soldier to become Thranduil’s sentry. But he knew that arguing with the king would get him nowhere and moreover he had no strength to do so. He was feeling his own weakness and how he didn’t care for anything was strange even for himself. Since he had seen Aleth with that bastard captain life had lost its meaning for him. Everything that had meant the world to him seemed meaningless. Even Thranduil’s humiliation by denying his counsel had not offended him as it should have.  

 

“You are right my lord…” he finally whispered despite his inner belief. “I’m sorry.”

 

The king nodded as he poured some wine for himself.

“What news from the south?” he asked changing the subject.

 

“Our spies came back empty handed…” Galdor shook his head.

 

“This elleth is a witch!” Thranduil sighed. “I must confess I’m scared of what she’s capable of doing.”

 

“We will find her…” Galdor assured.

 

Again Thranduil merely nodded and drained the cup as if it was merely water instead of strong wine.

“By the way…” he said. “Did you apologize to Miklovand as I asked you to?”

 

Galdor felt the blood rush into his face and his ears were exploding. He had not forgotten about the order but it was so hard for him to go to that pest and beg for his forgiveness. He knew he deserved the punishment but it would be literally smashing his pride to nothing.

 

“I…I forgot…” he stammered, avoiding Thranduil’s gaze.

 

“You literally _rearranged_ his face…” Thranduil smirked. “He deserves at least an apology!”

 

“Yes of course…” Galdor said still blushing. “I will go to him today.”

 

For a few moments Thranduil was silent as he scanned his closest friend. Galdor felt as if the king’s eyes were peeling his skin off with that observant look. Then slowly Thranduil came closer and instinctively Galdor raised his head to meet his eyes.

 

“Are you alright Galdor?”  he asked. “I find you rather distant…and sad.”

 

Galdor hated himself for being so obvious. He cursed the lump growing in his throat and the iron hand that pressed his heart. He hated this, he hated all of it. He loathed the curious look on Thranduil’s face and he hated the kindness in his voice. He didn’t deserve it. He had lied and he had kept secrets from the only person in the world who had looked at him like a member of his own family, the only person who had given him everything he could ask for. He couldn’t look up in his eyes. He had to leave if he wanted to stop drowning in the filth he had created.

 

“I had wanted to talk to you…” he said. “Can…can I ask a favor Thranduil?”

 

“Of course…” Thranduil smiled gently. He patiently waited for Galdor to gather himself.

 

“I’m really tired my lord…” the steward confessed. “Can I take a few days off? I wish to go away from the palace and visit my siblings.”

 

At first Thranduil frowned. A shadow of doubt passed his eyes. But it vanished as soon as it had appeared upon his fair features and it was replaced by a tender and warm smile.

 

“Of course…” the king whispered. “I consider you my own brother so deeply that I often forget you have a family of your own out there.”

 

Galdor’s breath hitched from the pain inside his chest. He wanted to grab Thranduil’s shoulders and shake his wrong feelings away from him. He wanted to scream and tell him everything. He wanted to fall on his knees and grab the king’s feet and beg him for his forgiveness. The way Thranduil looked at him, the way those aquamarine eyes smiled at him with pure trust almost made him sick with self-hate. But in the end he said nothing but merely chuckled bitterly from the fact that he too considered Thranduil a truer brother than his real siblings.

 

“When will you leave?” the king asked.

 

“At dawn…” he said. “With your permission of course.”

 

Thranduil nodded and walked away from him to pour himself another cup of wine.

“Make sure you return for Aleth’s wedding.”

 

If Galdor had a dagger he would’ve probably killed himself with it. Keeping silent and calm was like trying to breathe when a strong hand was pushing him down in the river. All air had left his lungs and his head circled. If he had any doubt on his decision to leave the palace it left him at that very moment. He had endured much through his life. But to watch his beloved get married to another; he could not take it. He would make sure he wouldn’t be there to witness it. If he rushed perhaps he could reach the shores on time. And then he would sail. Perhaps he could find a cure for his injured heart in the west.

 

Leaving meant saying goodbye to many things; the most important of them were the royal siblings whom he loved the most in the world. He watched as Thranduil walked away from him with slow elegant paces. His robes were hiding his form possessively only letting a glimpse of those long legs from time to time. He stretched a delicate pale hand and his long fingers circled the bottle twisting it so that the red liquid poured in the cup. His silken hair splayed around his shoulders like a thousand waterfalls of liquid gold. The steward observed the fair features he had known almost his entire life and cursed himself for never truly seeing the beauty. The noble brow and the strong nose, the handsome lips that were reddened by the wine…and those eyes. There was a dog hidden in those eyes, and when it saw the beholder it would catch him; tearing him into pieces as if he never existed. Galdor remembered a time when that deep long line did not exist between Thranduil’s breathtakingly dark eyebrows. He hated himself for failing in protecting that beauty.

 

The steward almost suppressed a gasp when his eyes locked with Thranduil’s and the king gazed at him with pure curiosity and concern. Thranduil placed the cup down on the table and straightened himself. Then he slowly walked back to Galdor and stood inches away from him. Galdor inhaled deeply taking in Thranduil’s scent. He needed to remember his odor; the scent of the forest after the spring rain. The feel of Thranduil’s hand gently grabbing his shoulder almost made him jump.

 

“Is there anything you wish to tell me Galdor?” he asked concerned.

 

The steward merely smiled and before he could stop himself he embraced Thranduil. The king was stiff at first, surprised of the sudden sentiment his friend was showing but then he relaxed and returned the hug. Galdor pressed his beloved king to himself firmly, knowing that he would never see him again. Then slowly he pulled apart and without another glance he walked out of the door, leaving behind a shocked Thranduil.

 

***

Packing his belongings did not take much time. Of course he wasn’t taking many things with him; just some clothes, the dagger that Thranduil had given him long ago and the locket Aleth had given him. Most of his time was taken by the letter he was planning to write. When he had first decided on confessing in a note the thought had seemed very simple and easy but when it came to actually writing it the steward found himself sitting behind his desk for hours with scattered sentences in his mind. Fighting a cave troll seemed easier than the task he had on his hands.

 

When he finally managed to write down a neat letter the floor of his chamber was covered with wasted parchments. He found that it was almost midnight. Though he had told Thranduil that he would leave by dawn he would leave sooner. He could use the night to get further from the palace when everyone was sleep. He had to make haste if he wanted to reach the shores. He had to exit the Elvenking’s lands fast or his guards might arrest and return him to Thranduil for his justice. Though he did not assume that Thranduil would send men behind him. He knew that probably the Elvenking would want nothing to do with him when he would read his letter.

 

He gathered the parchments from the floor and one by one burned them with the flames coming from the candle on his desk. Then he neatly folded the letter and with big letters he wrote the name of the recipient; _Thranduil_.

 

The steward then put his travelling robes on and adjusted his weapons and his sack on his back. He then placed the letter on his bed where probably a maid would easily find in the morning. He walked to the door but before leaving he turned and glance one last time at the room that had been his since he was a mere elfling. He sighed, wondering if he would ever see this chamber again and then he walked out of the door.

 

Despite the darkness of the corridors he could find his way easily. He knew every part of the palace by heart. He and Thranduil had played so many years in these halls to mistake them now. As he walked through the corridors he could remember Thranduil’s childish laughter. Saddening how he realized that it had been years since he had heard the king lough heartily.

 

Soon he reached his destination. The wooden door leading to Aleth’s chamber lay in complete darkness. He searched for a light perhaps coming from under the door but found none. The princess was probably sleep by now. It served his purpose well. He didn’t want tearful goodbyes or her please for him to not to leave or perhaps a cold rejection. He only wanted to see her face before he left. He wanted to memorize those fair features since he knew he might never see her again. He reached for the doorknob. The door made a click sound but it did not open. Of course he thought; ever since the attack the princess locked her door when she was in. the steward sighed bitterly. He would have to be content with the memory he had of Aleth. Still he placed his palm on the door as if he could feel her skin from behind the harsh texture. He leaned his brow on the door and closed his eyes. His tears flooded down his cheeks as he inhaled for the slightest scent of her; but all that came to his nostrils was the odor of the wood and dust. He was like a thirsty man stuck in the desert that had a skin of water with him which he could not touch. Once more he rubbed his hand on the surface and then slowly he backed the chamber and walked away towards another door on the end of the corridor.

 

Before he reached Miklovand’s door he saw him in one of the curves of the hall. The blacked haired captain was standing in a balcony in the middle of the corridor. The weather was fine and the breeze caressed his raven hair as he gazed at the dark forest. He still had his formal clothes on and strangely Galdor thought that he had never seen Miklovand otherwise.

Slowly he approached him from behind and then he coughed to have his attention. The captain of the guard turned and immediately surprise was written on his features when he saw Galdor behind him.

 

“Good evening…” he said.

 

“You’re up late…” Galdor noted.

 

“I could tell the same about you!” Miklovand raised his eyebrows.

 

“I came to talk to you…” Galdor said which made Miklovand’s eyebrows go higher. But the captain remained silent. “I owe you an apology…for my harsh behavior that day.” Galdor continued. “I ask for your forgiveness. My action was wrong and there is no excuse for it.”

 

Miklovand remained silent for a while. He slowly turned to face the steward. His eyes roamed up and down Gador’s form noticing the sack and the weapons on his back.

“Forgiven.” He finally said.

 

Galdor nodded his appreciation and turned to leave but Miklovand’s voice stopped him.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked.

 

“Yes…” Galdor said simply.

 

“Does Thranduil know?” Miklovand asked.

 

“Not that it is your business…but yes he knows.” The steward answered. “I’ll be off for a while.”

 

“So you’re just leaving her?” Miklovand questioned.

 

Galdor did not turn but merely tilted his head to look at the black haired warrior over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything though. He truly did not enjoy discussing Aleth with Miklovand.

 

“ _This_ was your epic love?!” the captain smirked mockingly.

 

Galdor said nothing but merely backed Miklovand and walked away. From behind him he heard the captain wishing a safe journey for him and if he was in a better mood he would’ve probably laughed at how ironic that sounded.

 

It seemed that the corridors had become desolate for his departure. As if fate also wanted him to be away from the palace. Somewhere inside his heart he wished that someone would stop him, someone would reason with him that there was indeed another way. But no one came and he knew that there was no other option.

 

As he passed through the gates even the guards at the huge doors did not acknowledge him. He knew that he had chosen the best option. Aleth would be better off without him; she would probably fall in love with Lyndon and make a family for herself. And Thranduil could look after himself, Holgailion and Daitrid would take good care of him. He knew he was no longer needed in that palace. He was not but a shadow and when the darkness of the forest night consumed him he knew those he loved would soon forget him.

 

 

 


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out to be a bit too long but I couldn't break it in anyway since I needed to finally reach one of the peaks of this fic...  
> Hope you enjoy and don't forget to comment.
> 
> Morierblackleaf; now you have no excuse for not updating ;)

Galdor knocked on the wooden door and waited. The village where his brother lived was very close to the capital. He had reached there many hours before dawn but not wanting to startle his sibling in the middle of the night he had waited for the sun to rise before knocking.

 

The door opened with a crack sound and the red head of a Silvan poked out. His brown eyes widened in disbelief before he immediately opened the door completely.

 

“Galdor!” he gasped and embraced his brother tightly.

 

“Mazdak you’re throttling me!” Galdor chuckled.

 

The ellon let go of the steward and a wide surprised grin shaped on his lips.

“Come in! Come in!” he said as he moved away from the door.

 

Galdor entered the small house. This was the cottage where he had been born and grown up until the day he had met Thranduil. Of course it had changed in the years. His siblings had mostly married and left for their own houses. But his elder brother, Mazdak, had stayed there. He had looked after the cottage well. Galdor noted that the wood of the floor and the ceiling was new and the worn out sofas of the living room had been replaced with a set of new ones made of hard expensive oak wood. Clearly Mazdak had used the money sent to him well.

 

“I changed the sofas recently…” Mazdak explained when he saw Galdor’s scanning looks. “I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“Of course I don’t…” Galdor smiled as he tapped his brother on the shoulder. “This house is yours.”

 

“I could’ve never done it if it wasn’t for the money you send me…” Mazdak said shyly while he took Galdor’s robe and hung it by the wall.

 

“I send that money to ease your life…” Galdor said kindly. “I’m happy that you’ve used it.”

 

“But it’s not fair that you send us all a huge amount every month…” Mazdak sighed. “It’s your own wages. You have to use it yourself.”

 

“I don’t need that money…” Galdor waved his hand as he settled on the sofa. “Thranduil provides me shelter and food, and I have enough to buy myself clothes and the thing I need. What would I do with so many coins?!”

 

A shiver ran down the steward’s back when he realized that he had indeed lost that shelter and food, though he didn’t need it anymore once he would reach the havens.

 

“Speaking of the king…” Mazdak said as he brought tea and sat down on the opposite couch. “How is he?!”

 

“He’s fine…” the steward said as he took the cup from his brother. “Dealing with the realm as usual.”

 

“I see you still have his favors…” the ellon winked after shooting a meaningful glance at Galdor’s expensive traveling clothes.

 

“I don’t think that’s true anymore…” Galdor smiled bitterly as he sat back and sipped from the tea.

 

“What do you mean?” Mazdak asked surprised. But then his eyes fell on Galdor’s pack leaning on the wall which was rather huge for a simple visit to a nearby village where he knew he would be staying at his brother’s house. Then his gaze turned to the steward’s weapons which were too much for a short trip in the forest where probably no danger would threaten him. He looked back at his brother bewildered. “Has something happened?”

 

“I left the palace…” Galdor said. “I will be heading for the ports…”

 

“What?!” Mazdak gasped. “But why?”

 

“I don’t have a place with Thranduil anymore…” the steward tried to explain little by little.

 

“Has something happened between you and the king…?” the ellon asked carefully.

 

It took Galdor sometime to gather his words. He made himself busy with the tea for a while but then again after a few moments he couldn’t ignore Mazdak’s expectant gaze.

“I’ve been having a secret affair with Thranduil’s sister…” he finally confessed.

 

Mazdak’s jaw fell ajar and his eyes widened. He blinked a few times and shook his head as if it would scare away the thoughts that has come to his mind. Then he huffed out the air and collapsed back on the seat.

“You mean the famous princess Aleth?!” he asked ridiculously as Thranduil was known to have a dozen sisters.

 

“That’s the one!” Galdor confirmed sarcastically.

 

For long minutes they were both silent. Galdor slowly drank his tea, not feeling the warmth of it spreading in his body. In fact he was so cold that he felt his heart turning to ice in his chest. In a few hours his letter would be discovered and Thranduil would know everything. The king would probably erase him from his thoughts and he would execute him in his heart. The thought made him shiver.

Mazdak was looking at the ceiling, probably still registering the news.

 

“I’ll stay here for a night if that’s alright.” Galdor finally said. “I’ll leave for the shores in the morning.”

 

“It’s fine…” Mazdak smiled bitterly. “I’ll send a message to the others. They would probably want to see their brother before he leaves Arda for good.”

 

Galdor merely nodded at that, the last thing in his mind at that moment was farewells with his many siblings.

 

***

 

Leuthil kept her gaze on the king as he read the letter he was holding in hand. She had come to him to pay him a visit and to report the overall state of the southerner refugees. Accidentally Holgailion had arrived at the study just after her to discuss moving the refugees to the stronghold. They had been in the middle of a very heated conversation that a servant had interrupted them, handing this seemingly hazardous letter to Thranduil that she claimed she had found in Galdor’s room while she’d been cleaning.

 

The king had not continued the discussion but he merely excused the servant and had opened the sealed letter. For long minuets he read and the room was dead silent.

 

Leuthil was beginning to feel concerned. She watched as Thranduil’s aquamarine orbs ran right and left reading each line and she noted how at first his eyes widened in disbelief and then they burned in what could be nothing but anger. His hold on the parchment that was at firs loose and casually gradualy turned to firmer and now was literary gripping the paper as if it was the throat of his enemy.The queen darted her eyes on Holgailion who was watching the king with the same curiosity and concern. He lifted his eyes and exchanged a glance with her. Silently they both confirmed their worried state with each other.

 

“Holgailion…” Thranduil suddenly bellowed and rose from his seat making the advisor and the queen jump.

 

“Majesty?!”

 

“Take out a few of your men…” the king ordered heatedly. “Find Galdor and bring him to me!”

 

Holgailion frowned. The order was so strange that even the loyal advisor doubted obeying it. the poor lord probably didn’t even understand this sudden rage towards the loyal hand.

 

“He said he’ll be at his brother’s settlement.” Thranduil barked ignoring the perplexed looks. “Start searching there…”

 

“My lord…” Holgailion started doubtfully but he was silenced by Thranduil slamming his fist on the desk.

 

“Go Holgailion.” He yelled. “Find him and bring him to me!”

 

The advisor glanced at the queen as if silently asking why Thranduil’s favored steward had suddenly become the subject of his wrath. Leuthil was petrified herself and she definitely had no answer that could be given at that moment. The two watched as the king flamed from anger like a burning dragon. Leuthil wouldn’t have been surprised if he had spat out fire. Holgailion seemed to have also felt the tension. He bowed slightly and murmured something before turning towards the door.

 

“Holgailion…” the king called sharply before the advisor could exit the study. Holgailion turned and as hard as it was for him he looked at the king’s eyes that were wild with unleashed anger. “If he refused to come…” Thranduil said in a dangerously low tone. “…Bring him by force!”

 

Holgailion literally threw himself out of the study leaving the spouses alone. Leuthil watched in fear as Thranduil placed his palms on the desk and leaned on it, huffing the air like an untamed wild horse.

 

“Thranduil…” the queen called carefully, cautiously taking a step towards her fuming husband. “What was in that letter?”

 

“You knew…” Thranduil suddenly snapped, lifting his head and eyeing her with a gaze that stoned her in her place. He rose to his full height and made Leuthil realize for the thousandth time how tall and broad he was. He took a threatening step closer making her instinctively take a step back. He picked the letter up and threw it at her insultingly. The parchment swung in the air and fell at her feet.

She followed it with her gaze at it landed on her skirt before looking up at her husband puzzled.

 

“Pity…” Thranduil spat. “I thought we were closer than this...”

Without waiting for an answer he passed her and walked out of the study slamming the door behind him hard. The walls trembled in their place form the force of the king’s anger.

 

The silence after his rage was deafening. It took her long minutes to calm down. Her heart still beat like a drum. She turned to go but the ruffling sound made her remember the parchment at her feet. She leaned and picked it up. The handwriting was unfamiliar to him but she didn’t contemplate on that long as she started reading what had caused so much rage in the king.

 

_Thranduil;_

_I write to you as your friend, your advisor and your servant. For long centuries I have tried to find a balance between these three, but I know that I have failed. An advisor never keeps secrets from his king. But I have done so. But yet again no servant is allowed to do what I have done. I’ve failed at being a true advisor and a true servant to you. So now I confess to you as your friend and I can merely hope that as a friend you would find it in your heart to forgive me for my misdeeds._

_I had always known that keeping a secret from you was in vain. I knew that you would eventually sense it because you know me better than I know myself. And I was not wrong. Many times during the last year you asked me if I was hiding something from you. Indeed I was, but I swear that several times I tried to tell you but always something came in the way as if fate did not wish for me to come clear._

_You were right. The secret I was keeping was about the elleth who gave me a lock of her hair as a gesture of Sindar love, the elleth who owns my heart. I feared your reaction when you knew she was the princess._

_During the years I was at your side I watched her grow to a fair lady. I admired her from afar never knowing that our love was mutual. It was before the war that I found the courage to confess my love and she did not reject. Sometimes I wished she had so that I would not have to lie to you so many years._

_I love her as a butterfly loves the light. Whenever I look at her I become dazzled, time stops for me, facts and limits become meaningless. I burn like a candle and I melt to nothing. My heart stops beating and my lungs stop breathing. I cannot hear anything but her voice, and I cannot see anything but her beauty. I would gladly die for her._

_Many times she asked me to talk to you but I was a coward. I feared losing you. So I kept silence. I could never predict the tragedies and I understand your reasoning for her arranged marriage; though it makes my heart bleed. I know that I should never even dream of having her. She is the princess of the Woodland, King Oropher’s daughter and the Elvenking’s sister, and I am nothing but a commoner who had the luck of meeting a prince. I know that you are now burning in anger and you have every right to. You are a brother and you want a suitable match for your sister. You are probably disgusted by me now for how I have fallen in love with the forbidden and how I have betrayed your trust. So I will leave because I cannot endure the betrayed look in your eyes and I cannot take your disappointment. I am sorry for causing you pain. And I need you to know that I love you more than life itself. I am sorry for disappointing you._

_I merely hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me for the sake of the long years we were together._

_Your humble servant_

_Galdor_

 

***

 

The next morning Galdor woke up soon. The sun had not risen completely and the air had a greyish color in it. The steward wrapped himself tighter in the covers and cuddled himself from the pleasant morning chill. He could hear the birds sing outside and the life slowly waking up from its reverie.

 

His mind drifted to his siblings. Although they all lived in nearby villages, not one of them had answered to Mazdak’s call regarding his departure. None of them had come to see him leave. The fact of course made Galdor upset but it only confirmed what he always knew. He had no family but Thranduil. His brothers and sisters were all busy with their own lives. He had been separated from them so long ago that they probably did not think of him anymore or rather they merely thought of him as a source of income. Once again he doubted if his decision had been right. If losing his only true brother was worth it.

 

The sun slowly rose and the steward got up to face his last day in the forest. He stretched his back and started folding the blankets.

 

“You’re up early!”

 

He turned and smiled at his brother who immediately disappeared in the kitchen.

“I’ll be off soon…” he explained.

 

The knock on the door made them both jump. He saw mazdak’s head poke out of the kitchen, frowning at the door and then gazing at him perplexed. The ellon walked to the door and opened the wooden entrance.

From where he stood Galdor couldn’t see who the knocker was but he clearly could recognize Holgailion’s deep voice.

 

_“Good morning sir…We apologize for bothering so early.”_

 

_“Good morning, how may I help you…” he heard Mazdak say in a hesitant voice._

_“We’re looking for Lord Galdor…We’ve been informed that he’s staying here.”_

 

Mazdak seemed to choke on his words but before he could form any lies in his mind Galdor grabbed the door and opened it wide to face the lord himself.

 

“My lord Holgailion…” he greeted the advisor who was standing at the door with two other guards.

 

“Galdor…” the lord nodded courtly. The solemn expression on his face clearly showed that no good news was in the way.

 

“Is there a problem…?” Galdor asked though he knew very well why the lord was there.

 

“I have order from the king to take you back to the palace…” Holgailion said reluctantly. “His majesty has summoned you.”

 

“I see…” Galdor murmured more to himself as he heard Mazdak make a stupid sound beside him. He had to confess he was surprised. He had thought Thranduil would want nothing to do with him after reading his letter. He had thought the king would be glad of his departure. Surely his calculations had been wrong. Apparently Thranduil was so angry that wanted to punish him.

 

“His majesty said that if you refused to come I am to take you by force.” Holgailion continued eyeing Galdor with a pleading look. “Please Galdor do not make me do this…”

 

“There’s no need.” The steward finally nodded. “If his majesty wants to see me then his order will be obeyed without question.”

 

He didn’t miss the relieved look on Holgailion’s face before Mazdak grabbed his arm possessively.

“What are you doing?” his brother said. “He will kill you!”

 

Galdor turned towards the ellon and smiled. Then he leaned and embraced his brother tenderly. He gave him a reassuring nod as he grabbed his things and stepped out of the door towards the stallions that were waiting to take him to the Elvenking’s palace.

 

***

 

When Aleth stormed out of her chambers to frantically search for Thranduil, Leuthil immediately regretted telling her about the letter. She ran after the princess but Aleth ignored her calls. The princess ran towards the king’s study, her dress swinging behind her like flag. Erhan who was assigned to guard Thranduil’s door caught the sight of Aleth who was approaching like a tornado and immediately he stood in front of the door to prevent her from entering.

 

“Open the door…” Aleth ordered as looking like a lioness with her golden hair standing so unruly around her face.

 

“I’m sorry my lady…” Erhan said calmly. “The king wishes no audience.”

 

“Get out of my way!” she bellowed pushing the guard out of the way with a strange force.

 

She burst into the study, Erhan and the queen calling after her. Suddenly all three of them were in the middle of the room petrified by Thranduil’s cold gaze.

 

“M…My king…” Erhan stammered. “I tried to stop her grace…”

 

Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal and the guard bowed before leaving the study. Aleth was too busy studding Thranduil to notice his departure. He stood tall in a dark blue robe that showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist and the way that mithril circlet gave authority to his character reminded her of Oropher. His face was emotionless and his eyes were ice and he merely stood there, gazing at her with raised eyebrows.

 

“Thranduil…” she started with a wavering voice as she took a step towards him, but his raised hand stopped her from advancing.

 

He clearly didn’t want her to get close. She had seen Thranduil’s wrath before but never towards herself. He was always kind to her and lately although they had not been as intimate as before but he had never been unkind. But now he looked as if he could explode any second, burning away her tiny being in his flames of rage.

 

“My lady…” he called Leuthil in an ice cold voice. “Please accompany my sister to her chambers…”

 

Aleth couldn’t take this. She was after all a princess. She wasn’t just any commoner to be ignored. To be talked about as if she did not exist. When Leuthil’s hand swept across her shoulder she shrugged and rapidly pushed her hand away. Ignoring her brother’s order she closed the distance between them and grabbed his elbow.

 

“What are you going to do to him?!” she asked, suppressed tears pooling in her eyes.

 

“I do not have the habit of discussing the matters of the state with you…” Thranduil said icily his gaze fixed on Aleth’s eyes piercing her heart.

 

“I love him…” Aleth confessed desperately. For a moment she thought she saw some kind of a feeling pass Thranduil’s eyes but it vanished so quickly that she could not tell for sure. “If you hurt him, I will die…”

 

Thranduil watched her for a long time as she clutched on his sleeve and cried silently; begging for the steward to be spared from her brother’s rage. But it was as if his heart had become stone.

 

“Go to your chambers…” he whispered and turned away.

 

Aleth watched his retreating back in disbelief. It had been times when she’d been addressed like this by her father. But for her Thranduil had always been different. He was always kind, he understood and before being her brother he used to be her friend. But now he saw none of those. He only saw a cruel king and the fact was suffocating him.

“What a monster have you become?!” the princess suddenly cried aloud. “How can you do this to your closest friend? To your own sister?”

 

The princess could swear that the room went dark for a moment when Thranduil turned towards her and his emotionless expression changed into pure anger. He turned; shoving her hand from his sleeve he took a threatening step towards her and towered above his sister.

 

“Go to your chambers.” He bellowed. “And do not EVER come here again, unless you are summoned.”

 

For a few moments Aleth was petrified. She watched as Thranduil glared daggers at her and turned towards the window. She felt…empty. The princess had lost everything; her lover, her dignity, her pride and above all else her brother. Clearly there was still nothing to fight for and once again she was reminded of how passive she was, she was shown once again that who is the king, and that she had no right to complain about his decision.

 

This time she did not jerk when she felt Leuthil’s soothing hands on her shoulders. The queen whispered something in her ear, encouraging her to leave the study and the angry monster inside it. She obeyed. Following her friend she exited the room. But before Erhan closed the door behind them she glanced one more time at the tall king in front of the window; he really didn’t look like her brother. 

***

 

The stairs leading the courtyard to the main entrance of the palace had never seemed so long before. He had played on these staircases many times with Thranduil when they’d been elflings, he couldn’t remember his feet so heavy while climbing these worn out stairs then. Each step took ages for him and as he felt himself closer to Thranduil’s study his heart beat harder. He remembered the same feeling when they were taken to that very study as elflings to be reproached by Oropher for some mischief they’d committed.

 

They entered the palace and turned towards where the king’s study was located, climbing another set of stairs. On the top Miklovand was standing, studying them with a smirk on his lips as he leaned on the wall.

 

“Well well…” he said as they approached. “Looks like the wanted has been captured!”

 

“Move away Miklovand!” Holgailion said firmly while Galdor merely gazed at the warrior with cold eyes that had a tingle of defeat in them.

 

He couldn’t resist the horrible thoughts that were passing his mind. Now that he would be removed out of the way, Miklovand would probably try to get closer to Aleth. The steward knew that the presence of the princess’s fiancé would not be an obstacle for the dark elf’s advances. His blood boiled in his veins at the thought of Miklovand even looking at his beloved. But he felt so weak that he couldn’t even react to the elf’s words.

 

Miklovand wasn’t affected by the lord’s commanding tone and he walked closer to them with lazy steps.

“Who would’ve thought…” he said sarcastically. “…that the king’s trustee would one day be the subject of his wrath.” Then he stood inches away from Galdor as if he was daring him to a fight. “Perhaps he would tie you an untamed horse and walk you around the capital for others to learn what becomes of the betrayers.” He continued, but then he smirked. “That is of course if he spares your life…We all know what violence he’s capable of.”

 

“Enough Miklovand!” Holgailion barked. “Mind your language! We do not know what the king’s decision is yet and I must remind you, you are still talking to your superior…I will not have you address the king’s hand as such.”

 

“My lord…” Galdor called softly which made both Miklovand and Holgailion turn towards his exhausted and drained face. “Please, take me to the king…let this end.”

 

A sorrowful silence fell between them before Holgailion gazed at him regretfully and then nodded. Giving Miklovand another deadly glare he passed the warrior and led the steward towards the study.

The new guard, Erhan, was standing in front of the door. Galdor thought that the lad would be happy to see him like this as he had been the one denying the guard’s wishes, but he saw nothing in the youth’s eyes but pity and regret as he bowed his head.

 

“Lord Galdor, Lord Holgailion!” he greeted and slowly opened the door. “His majesty awaits you…”

 

The door swayed open and Galdor entered the dim study after Holgailion. It was afternoon so the candles were still not lit, but since the sky was cloudy the room was dark. Immediately Galdor noted Thranduil’s tall form. His back was towards them and he was looking outside the window.

 

“Your highness, lord Galdor is here, as you had asked.” Holgailion bowed to the king’s back.

 

“Thank you my lord…” Thranduil’s soft voice echoed in the study. “You may leave.”

 

Holgilion hesitated for a second before leaving. He gave Galdor an encouraging look and tapped him softly on the shoulder before he walked out of the room.

 

Somehow after the lord left, the steward felt very alone. He could hear his heart beat in his ears and every breath took its toll on him. He was like a trapped mouse waiting for the cat to make a dinner out of him. He merely wished that Thranduil would not torture him mentally and let this suffering end.

 

The steward’s breath hitched when the king turned. He had supposed that he would be facing the well-known rage. He had been ready to see those eyes burn with fire and wrath. But instead he saw ice, and disappointment. It made his heart break and immediately he lowered his gaze to avoid that empty look.

 

“So…” Thranduil said calmly as he circled his desk to stand in front of Galdor. Crossing his arms on his chest he leaned his rear on the desk and kept his intense gaze on the steward who was now clearly shaking with shame and fear. “So you thought you could escape my forest without my notice.”

 

Galdor flinched. He hadn’t at all thought about escaping Thranduil. However he wasn’t surprised that the king thought of him as a coward who had ran away. His actions had definitely confirmed this.

 

“I wasn’t trying to escape my king…” he said in a hoarse voice without lifting his gaze from the carpet. “I merely thought you wouldn’t want me around anymore…”

 

For a few moments Thranduil just studied him. Galdor still did not lift his gaze as he could not stand to look in those aquamarine orbs. Finally Thranduil sighed and lifted himself lazily, walking back to the other side of his desk.

 

“Where did you plan to go?!” he said casually as he ruffled the papers on his desk absentmindedly. “Lothlorien? Imladris?”

 

“Valinor, my king…” Galdor whispered after a moment.

 

“Good choice!” Thranduil commented as he lifted his eyes to look at the steward sharply. “It is a shame for someone with your status to become a simple citizen in other elvendome…Valinor is indeed a great choice!”

 

For the first time that afternoon Galdor finally noted a hint of anger in Thranduil’s tone, and of course a bit of mockery. Of course the king was mocking him; he had stupidly thought that he could get to the havens. He was a fool to think Thranduil would want nothing to do with him. Thranduil still had business with him; he wanted to punish him for his betrayal, for looking at his sister in the wrong way.

 

“I give you permission to leave for the havens…” Thranduil said haughtily as he slowly walked towards Galdor. The steward lifted his gaze but immediately after capturing Thranduil’s piercing eyes he dropped it again. The king stood inches from the steward. As Galdor had dropped his head he could only see the brooch on the king’s collar and not his eyes. He suddenly found the embroideries on Thranduil’s robe very interesting. “However, you need to stay for a while…” Thranduil continued in a voice that was now shaking with anger. “There are some important affairs you need to attend to... like your wedding!”

 

It took Galdor a few moments to comprehend what he had heard. The message Thranduil’s words conveyed travelled many times from his ears to his brain and back before he could understand the meaning of it. He really wouldn’t have thought Thranduil would mock him before his punishment so unmercifully. The king’s wrath would have been enough. However when he finally dared to look up, there was no sarcasm in the Elvenking’s eyes but pure sorrow and anger.

 

“What kind of love is this?!” the king snapped in his face suddenly losing all his self-control. “My sister is nothing without you…she’s no different from a corpse.” He continued with his voice shaking from anger. “And you just leave her and go just because you fear my wrath?!”

 

Galdor couldn’t believe what he was hearing or what he was seeing. Thranduil was reproaching him but not because he had fallen in love with his sister but because he had left her, and his eyes were burning with rage but not because he had betrayed his trust but because he had hidden secrets from him.

“You really think _I_ am the one who doesn’t understand love?! You really think that I would try to separate you while you love each other so much?” the king continued with a sorrowful betrayed voice. “Am I such a tyrant?”

 

Galdor was speechless. He merely stared at the Thranduil with eyes wide with disbelief. The king glared at him mercilessly. “Pity Galdor…” he spat. “All these years and you’ve not known me a bit!”

 

Thranduil was indeed standing in front of him and giving his blessing to his affair with the princess even if it was in his own twisted way. Galdor finally comprehended. He was filled with so many emotions that he didn’t know which one to feel first.

He did the only thing his mind responded to do. He leant and grabbed Thranduil’s hand to kiss it but the king pulled away his hand and instead grabbed Galdor by his shoulders firmly. He looked into the stewards dark eyes and spoke firmly.

 

“Go to her…” he said. “And do not ever leave her side again.”

 

Tears ran down Galdor’s cheeks. He had been so afraid and now he just couldn’t believe that the suffering was over. That he could finally have the most desired gem of his life and he wouldn’t lose his beloved king. Without thinking he hugged Thranduil. At first the king was shocked but then he chuckled and returned the embrace and allowed Galdor to weep on his shoulder. He caressed the steward’s back to calm his sobs. Clearly a great weight had been lifted from Galdor’s shoulders and he was so emotionally drained.

 

“You brought this pain upon yourselves for nothing…” the king whispered softly.

 

The steward then gained back his posture and wiped away his tears. His face was red with shame for being overwhelmed in front of his king.

 

“Go to her…” Thranduil repeated.

 

Galdor nodded with a faint smile and bowed. He walked towards the door but then turned again towards the king who was watching him with a smile. He had no words to say but he knew the king understood everything from his eyes.

Thranduil merely nodded before the steward opened the door and left the study to find his beloved. 

 

***

 

Miklovand turned on the corner and walked through the corridors that lead to a balcony where often the princess and the queen sat and chatted in their spared time. His heart beat rapidly with each step he took. He always felt like this when he was going to see Aleth. Even though it had been centuries since the princess looked at him with any feelings, deep in his heart there was still hope that perhaps one day she would know how much he loved her. With Galdor out of the way he may have a chance to win her heart again.

 

The doors to the balcony were open and he went through. As he had predicted both ladies were there. They sat in silence on a comfortable bench. Immediately his eyes roamed on her. Her hair was like liquid gold in the afternoon sun and her pale face more beautiful with that deep frown upon her brow. She lifted her eyes that were swollen and red, looking at him as his breath hitched with how breathtakingly beautiful she was.

 

“Have they sent you to bring the bad news?!” she asked stingingly.

 

Miklovand darted his gaze on the queen. She also looked worried as she looked at him expectantly. Somehow the queen looked different. As if her hair was darker and her eyes glittered with a shine that had nothing to do with the concern about Galdor. He didn’t contemplate on the matter much as he looked back at the princess.

 

“I have no news…” he told her. “I merely came to see how you’re doing my lady…”

 

Aleth’s frown deepened and she turned her face away, looking at the forest that lay green before them. Miklovand truly had a nerve to approach her at this moment when she was vomiting from anxiety and concern for her love.

 

The sound of rushed footsteps approaching made all three of them turn expectantly towards the balcony door. None of them said a word while they just listened the footsteps come closer and closer. This one definitely was bringing a news.

 

Aleth and Leuthil both stood from their place as Galdor entered the balcony. As the queen and Miklovand watched bewildered Aleth gasped and ran to her beloved without thinking. Throwing herself in his open arms she pressed him hard to herself. She buried her face in his clothes and smelled his odor. She had been so scared not be able to smell him again, to see him again. But then she remembered and immediately broke the embrace to look at his face.

 

“What happened?” She asked rapidly. “What is Thranduil going to do with you? Is he going to banish you?”

 

“Calm down and let me explain…”Galdor chuckled tiredly.

 

Aleth suppressed the flood of questions and stood gazing at the steward, waiting impatiently for an explanation. The queen and the Miklovand were also dying for news each one for their own reasons.

Galdor shot a glare at the warrior before looking back at Aleth again.

 

“He was merely angry with us for keeping it secret…He had no plan of punishing anybody!” he explained as he caressed a strand of hair out of Aleth’s face. “He gave his blessing to our marriage.”

 

The princess nearly fainted. All the warmth left her body and her head felt light. Galdor was fast enough to lead her to the closest chair. All her cells shook. Disbelief was all she felt. Thranduil had been so angry the other day. He had been so harsh and unforgiving that she could not believe any of it. Galdor sat next to her and embraced her again, kissing the top of her head. They looked as if they had fought a dragon.

 

The queen smiled at the scene. She was better at believing this sudden turn of events but still she was surprised. She looked at Miklovand. The captain looked as if he would murder all of them at that second. His veins had popped out and his nostrils were open with pure anger and defeat.

 

“My lord…” Leuthil called and made Miklovand look up at her. “I believe it is time for us to leave…”

 

Without another word the warrior turned on his heels and stormed out of the balcony. Galdor glanced at him and then looked gratefully at the queen. She smile at him and walked out of the place as well.

 

***

 

Thranduil jumped and almost dropped his glass of wine when his step-brother stormed into his chamber like an angry bull, Erhan following him as he shouted his name.

The guard bowed and left when the king waved a dismissal hand at him. Miklovand waited until the door was closed, breathing like wild horse.

 

“You could at least knock!” the king commented calmly.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” the captain suddenly yelled without restraint which startled Thranduil again. “You give her to that Silvan as if she’s not but a commoner?”

 

Thranduil was taken aback but he judged the warrior very angry for an argument.

“They love each other Miklovand…” he reasoned.

 

“She’s the daughter of the king…” Miklovand bellowed.

 

“And she has the right to choose whom she loves…” the king said firmly. “I understand you feel protective of her but we must respect her choice.”

 

“You weren’t so concerned with her rights when you were forcing her into marrying Lyndon not two days ago!” Miklovand bellowed.

 

“I had no other option!” Thranduil said still calm. “Of course I rathered her marry someone she loves.”

 

“How can you do this?” the captain said, his tone still high. “How can you hand her to that lowly Silvan who didn’t even have a father?”

 

“ENOUGH!” Thranduil suddenly snapped reaching his limits. “If I were to judge people by their past you were the first one to leave this palace.” He said sharply pointing a threatening finger at Miklovand. “He may be a Silvan with no father but I might as well remind you that you were a nobody with no father and no mother; left to die under a tree.”

 

It was as if a bucket of freezing water had been poured on the captain’s head. In all these years he had hated Thranduil and Thranduil had hated him back but never did the king say anything about his origins. He had always respected his father’s choice for bringing Miklovand into his family. Hearing it from his step-brother made it sound darker. Thranduil also seemed shaken by their quarrel as he emptied his glass of wine in one breath and poured himself another.

 

“They love each other…” He said softly after a few moments of silence. “Who am I to try and separate them?”

 

“You’re right…” Miklovand finally said with disgust and looked up at the king. “You are nothing!”

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened with surprise from the captain’s nerves but he didn’t get the chance to react as Miklovand continued with a shaking voice and eyes full of tears.

 

“If you were half the king my father was that filth had lost his head for lusting after Aleth…” the warrior cried.

 

Thranduil knew his grip on the cup in his hand had been so intense only when he heard the glass shatter and felt the wine spill on his fingers. He was so angry that his eyes blurred from high pressure. He couldn’t find the right words to express the rage he was experiencing. The pest always tapped his most sensitive veins.

 

“I am the king now…” he finally whispered. “And I will have you address me as such…”

 

Miklovand stood in front of him, shaking with sorrow and hatred. The captain gazed at him for a while then he bowed and walked out of the study slamming the door so hard that made the walls tremble in their place.

 

The king tried to ignore the pain in his heart as he booted the pieces of glass to the edge of the wall. He has just taken out another glass from the cupboard that he heard the door open again. He lifted his head to see a smiling queen approach.

 

“You’re decision was surprising!” She said with a tingle of mirth in her voice.

 

“Did Galdor go to Aleth…?” Thranduil asked casually as he sipped from his cup.

 

“He did…” Leuthil said as she closed the distance between them and stood close to her husband. “You scared them to death you know.”

 

“What’s being a king worth for if I can’t tease my sister and my friend from time to time?” Thranduil smirked sipping his wine.

 

Leuthil chuckled but then she looked back at him again.

“You could’ve at least told _me_ that you meant them no harm…”

 

“I don’t remember you telling me about the affair they kept secret all these years…” Thranduil shot back. “Consider it my revenge.”

 

The queen sighed and shook her head. But then she closed her arms around his elbow tenderly.

“Are we good now?” she asked naughtily like an elfling.

 

“We’re good!” Thranduil announced with a smile as he wrapped her in his strong arms and claimed her lips in a passionate kiss.

 

They were immediately interrupted by the sound of the door opening again and were forced to break their kiss. Turning towards the door they saw Aleth standing in the frame. She looked pale as if she’d seen a ghost and her eyes were still wide with disbelief.

 

“I really should send Erhan away if he is unable to do the simplest task of keeping people out of my study!” Thranduil smirked.

 

Aleth said nothing but kept staring at him as if she was seeing him for the first time in her long life.

 

“I’ll leave you two…” Leuthil giggled.

She walked past the princess winking at her and then she left the study.

 

For long moments the siblings just looked at each other. For Thranduil it was an interesting staring contest but for Aleth it served for believing that everything was alright again.

Finally Thranduil sighed and opened his arm inviting her into his embrace.

 

“Come here you little witch!” he said tenderly.

 

The mentions of the old name that her brother used to call her with when they were still young made her heart skip a beat. She almost ran to him, desperate for his affection. He wrapped her in his safe arms and kissed her hair many times. She buried her face in his robes, inhaling his familiar scent and slowly she realized that she had her brother back, that this ellon was no distant tyrant but her own gentle brother.

 

“Don’t ever lie to me again…” she heard his deep voice vibrate in his chest. In response she merely dug her face deeper in the fabric of his tunic.

 

 


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok now this delay is totally unacceptable!   
> You can blame it on several migraine attacks I've had these past weeks! I feel like an old zombie!  
> I thank all those who are still sticking around despite the fact that I suck at my promises to post faster...you are the only reason I keep writing this stupid tale!   
> Anyway I've tried to make up for the delay with this long long chapter... I hope you enjoy it.  
> This will be the last happy chapter in a long time to come so fasten your seat belts since this is the calm before the storm...

A pleasant cool breeze caressed Leuthil’s face as she passed through the courtyard and walked down the small hill that lead to the training fields. Spring had settled in the lands and everything was green and fresh and the Earth was breathing again. From afar the queen could see the young lads training in pairs, there were at least a dozen of them. She could also see the lord of the Golden Flower supervising the adolescents.

 

She stood with a distance so that her presence was not noted and she watched Glorfindel as he told little tricks to the young ellons. The lads were clearly enjoying the good weather and the interesting trainings and the smile on the lord’s face also indicated that he was satisfied as well.

 

“My lord…” the queen finally called him which made Glorfindel turn rapidly towards the sound of her voice. He looked surprised for a moment but then his face blossomed to a wide grin as he walked towards her.

 

“My lady…” he greeted with a wide smile as he approached. “It is a pleasant surprise to see you down here.”

 

Leuthil smiled at the comment. She pointed at the young ones who were practicing very seriously. “I see they are enjoying the trainings…” she indicated.

 

“I am enjoying as well…” the lord said with a glance at the lads. “They learn fast, and their Silvan built gives them unique abilities for combat…It was a shame that they were being wasted in the refugee camp.”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be with your comrades protecting the borders…” the queen said with a tingle of mirth in her voice. “How come you are still in the capital?”

 

“I am well capable of controlling my troops from the city…” Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. “Of course if my presence is bothering your majesty I can leave immediately.” He said with a serious act and made a gesture as if he was leaving the capital at that very moment.

 

“Oh no in fact your presence is most fortunate…” Leuthil chuckled and made Glorfindel stand with his arms still crossed over his chest showing a false act as if he had been gravely insulted. The queen chuckled again at his stance while she took out an envelope from her robes and stretched it towards the lord. “I wanted to give you this.”

 

Glorfindel eyed her suspiciously as he walked closer and took the envelope with the royal seal. “What is it?” he asked as he broke the green sign of Greenwood.

 

“An invitation to Lady Aleth’s and Lord Galdor’s wedding, signed personally by the king for you…” she said as he skimmed the letter.

 

“So it’s true then…” the lord said as he folded the parchment. “…that this is going to be the greatest wedding Middle-Earth has ever seen!”

 

“I believe the rumors have exaggerated…” the queen chuckled. “But yes, it is going to be a huge feast. The king is not denying any expenses.”

 

“Do you think it’s right to do such a thing in the time of this vast move!?” Glorfindel criticized carefully.

 

“Thranduil wished to share his happiness with his people…” Leuthil said casually. “And the Silvan are fond of feasts, no matter what the situation maybe!”

 

“Yes I know that…and also the king has a reputation of throwing crazy parties!” Glorfindel teased which made Leuthil laugh heartily. He suddenly found that he couldn’t look away from her face. Her blue eyes narrowed to a cute line when she laughed and her mouth revealed perfect teeth. This lady was indeed dark and beautiful. His mind was not responding anymore and he merely thought with his rebellious heart and he decided to push his limits a bit.

 

“I remember your wedding…” he said after her laughter died down. “It was such a small event, dominated by the coronation ceremony of the young prince.”

 

Leuthil nodded at that and her face bore suspicion and curiosity since she couldn’t foresee where the lord was leading this conversation to. 

 

“Doesn’t it hurt you…?” Glorfindel asked tenderly. “That king Thranduil throws the biggest party ever for his sister’s marriage, while for you there was just a small and simple event?”

 

Leuthil raised her eyebrows. She would lie if she’d say she’d not thought about this. But always she reasoned with herself. The queen was never the jealous type and she wasn’t at all greedy. She never asked for anything and whatever jewelry or luxury she had as a queen Thranduil had provided for her without her asking for any of them. She was after all a simple Silvan. Though she had been born in a lord’s house and she’d always been among the ladies of the court, she never found herself greed for luxury. But Glorfindel’s words made her heart tremble in its place as if someone had reminded her of those things she could’ve asked but never did. The blue eyes of the Balrog Slayer were looking at her smartly saying many stories of women who had been trapped in the charm of them.

 

“Th…The times were different then…” she struggled to find her words. “The war had just ended and many were still mourning for their loved ones, including Thranduil who had recently lost his father. It was wrong to ask for anything more…”

 

Glorfndel furrowed his brow and regarded her for a while. She thought she would melt under his intense gaze. It was as if he could see through her.

“You are such a great elleth…” the Balrog Slayer said more talking to himself. “Strong, beautiful, content… king Thranduil is very lucky to have you.”

 

Leuthil opened her mouth to say something but closed it again as her words escaped her mind. It wasn’t just anybody talking to her but the great Glorfindel who had years of life behind him. Her cheeks blushed taking the lord’s breath away. He took a few steps closer and stood where she could easily inhale his scent.

“I think you deserve more than he gives you…” he said.

 

“He loves me…” the queen said not knowing at all why she was even continuing this strange conversation. “That is enough for me.”

 

The lord’s eyes scanned her once again stopping on her eyes only to look at her with a longing gaze.

“I am no king, but if you were mine…” he whispered. “I would’ve spread the stars at your feet.”

 

The queen could not breathe. She could merely stare at Glorfindel with huge eyes. She should’ve probably said something or reproached the Balrog Slayer for forgetting his limits but no words escaped her parted lips.

Glorfindel smiled bitterly as he placed the parchment in his tunic. Then he looked up again at her with a joyful expression as if no weird intercourse had happened between them.

“Please thank the king for this invitation on my behalf.” He said. “I will gladly attend.”

 

Then he bowed his head for Leuthil and walked a few steps backwards before turning and walking down the hill towards the training fields where young ellons were practicing combat.

 

***

 

Galdor and Daitrid walked through the market together. Despite the fact that Lord Daitrid was several centuries older than Galdor and he had been in the court since before the steward could spell that word, they had developed a good friendship. The lord was young at heart and an easy pleasant company. They walked down a narrow alley at the center of the capital were a great market was established. Everything could be found here; food, dresses, jewelry…

 

“So tell me Galdor…” Daitrid said playfully as he examined the apples one merchant was selling. “Did you poison the king to have his sister?!”

 

For a moment Galdor was shocked and looked at the lord bewildered. But when he saw the humor in his eyes he relaxed.

“I really don’t know what curse overcame the king!” the steward teased. “It’s a mystery even to myself!”

 

“To be honest it wasn’t a shock for me. I had told Holgailion before he went out looking for you; I told him Thranduil’s anger is just a jest.” The lord said as he paid the ellon a few coins for a bag of apples. “We all know how much he loves you…”

 

“The feeling is mutual.” Galdor smiled. “Many think I’m just Thranduil’s pet for status and fortune but the truth is that I try to be his friend and I would gladly give my life for him.”

 

“We all know that Galdor…” Daitrid said reassuringly as he patted the steward on the back. “…And those who say those things are merely jealous.”

 

Galdor nodded and smiled while he pointed at a small shop on the right.

“Do you mind if I look something here?” he asked.

 

Daitrid shook his head and followed the steward inside.

The shop was rather dusty and dark and when they first entered it took their eyes a few moments to get used to the dimness. It was bigger than what it looked from the outside. There was a wooden counter on the front which had a glass on top; showing magnificent jewelry underneath. The shop also had many shelves and several drawers. And there was a narrow corridor that leaded to the back which was probably the stock room. They were looking around when finally an ellon appeared from the dark corridor while he wiped his hands with a piece of cloth; when he saw them he smiled widely.

 

“I’d wondered when I’d be seeing you sir Galdor…” he said as he limped towards the counter.

 

“Good morning sir Ayedin…” Galdor smiled.

 

“Good day to you too, my lord Daitrid.” Ayedin then greeted as he looked at the lord.

 

“It’s good to see you again sir Ayedin…” Daitrid said.

 

Ayedin was very old. He was one of the Sindar who had travelled to Greenwood with Oropher and he was a skilled jeweler known throughout the land. Despite his skills he joined the war with his king and the damage to his leg was so severe that he had much difficulty walking after his return. But still he was the best in his job and even the king ordered the items he wanted from non-other but him. 

 

“It seemed only yesterday that two little elflings burst into my shop in a lovely afternoon, threatening me with wooden swords to a fight until honorable death or yield and surrender some sweets!” the ellon said fondly while he scanned Galdor and traces of very old memories rushed back to his eyes.

 

Galdor blushed dramatically as Daitrid looked at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Tell me that’s not true!” the lord gasped amused.

 

“Er…Um…Thranduil always had a sweet tooth!” Galdor stammered as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “He still wanders around the palace kitchen in the middle of the night to find some pastries even now that he’s king. I’ve even seen him wake the cooks hours before dawn when he doesn’t find the sweets he wants!”

 

Daitird burst into laughter as Galdor chuckled shyly. The ellon chuckled as well.

After the mirthful moments Ayedin looked back at the steward kindly.

“So my lord…I’m sure you aren’t here to fetch some sweets for the king.” He said. “How can I help you?”

 

Galdor shifted his weigh from one foot to another. “I’m looking for a piece of jewelry as a gift…” he said.

 

“For lady Aleth I suppose?” the ellon asked mischievously with a wink.

 

“Yes.” Galdor confirmed with a smile and a blush on his cheeks.

 

Ayedin frowned as he sank deep in thought; probably skimming all the jewelry he had in his shop inside his mind. Then he walked to the side of the counter and pulled out a velvet folded cloth.

 

“This arrived a week ago…” he explained as he placed the cloth on the counter and unfolded it, revealing a shining necklace with valuable gems on it. “It’s made by the best dwarven craftsmen, and it’s very fashionable.”

 

The steward examined the perfect piece for a few moments before looking up at Ayedin.

“It’s beautiful but you know the princess is Sindar…” he said. “I don’t think she would appreciate the crafts of dwarves.”

 

Ayedin nodded as he folded the cloth again and placed it back under the glass. “Ah…” he said as he remembered something else and walked to a drawer and pulled out a small box. “I’ve never seen her grace but they say she has eyes similar to king Thranduil’s; huge and azure. Am I right?”

 

“She does…” Galdor said curiously as he watched the ellon approach the counter again. He placed the box on the glass and opened it. There was a pair of earrings inside. It was made of gold and had stones on it the same aquamarine color as Aleth’s eyes. “These will match her grace’s eyes perfectly…” Ayedin said.

 

Galdor lifted the box and examined it for a few moments before placing it back.

“That’s not what I want…” he shook his head. He was becoming disappointed and thought that he might never find the right gift. “I wish for something…unique!”

 

Ayedin gazed at him thoughtfully as if trying to read his mind. The steward waited for long moments and just as he was getting impatient the ellon narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “I wonder…” he said more to himself. Then he turned and limped towards the corridor. “Wait here for a moment please.” He said as he disappeared at the back of the shop.

 

The two ellons waited patiently. Daitrid walked to the shelves watching the different boxes that were orders from different people. Among them he found familiar names as well as the king’s. There were three boxes readied with a parchment on them saying _His majesty king Thranduil_. 

 

“Here we are…”

 

Ayedin’s voice made them turn back to the counter. He had a very old box in his hand and before placing it on the counter he blew at least an inch of dust from top of it making both ellons in the shop cough. He didn’t mind the disappointed looks on the lords’ faces as he placed the box on the glass and cautiously opened the lead.

 

Instinctively Galdor took a step closer as the sight of the jewel caught his eyes. With his eyes Ayedin gave him permission to pick up the piece and examine it closer. It had a design of a bird; but not just any bird. This creature had the wings of an eagle and a head of a hawk only to be followed with the ears and broad neck of a stallion; the bird had no claws. The piece was made of mithril and all through it it was decorated with various colorful gems and the eyes were sapphire.

 

“This masterpiece is ancient my lord…” Ayedin explained. “It is one of the pieces saved from the ruins of Doriath. I got it from a survivor of the battle that had found it in the desolation after the war. He gave it to me when he decided to travel to the havens. The mithril never fades and the gems are the purest you’ll find in Middle-Earth.”

 

“What is this creature?” Galdor asked mesmerized by its beauty.

 

“It is the _Huma_. It’s a bird from ancient myths.” The old ellon explained patiently. “A symbol of fortune that is. They say that she is restless with love, living her entire life flying invisibly high above the earth and never alighting on the ground, as the legends say she has no legs…”

 

Galdor watched the beauty in his hands as he listened to the tale. This was indeed something unique. A bird that was restless with love was just like him. If this brooch was to be placed on Aleth’s breast this bird would finally find love and well deserved rest at her rightful home.

 

“Of course it is very expensive since it’s ancient…” he heard Ayedin again. “You might not want to spend so much fortune…”

 

“I’ll take it…” Galdor interrupted the old ellon without taking his eyes off the masterpiece.

 

“Very well…” Ayedin smiled. “It is indeed a gift worthy of the princess.”

 

***

 

The queen looked at her reflection in the mirror and admired the talent of the tailors. They had taken her measurements only once and this dark blue dress fitted her slender body perfectly. Her mind drifted to Glorfindel and what he would think of this dress or if she would be beautiful in his eyes. Her ponderings were wrong but she couldn’t help it when his words rushed back to her mind. Her thoughts however were interrupted by Thranduil opening the door of the chamber noisily making her jump.

 

She turned to examine him as her thoughts became straight. He simply looked majestic with those silver robes and the crown of woods; the rightful king of the forest.

 

“You look handsome!” she commented with a smile.

 

Thranduil stood in front of her and scanned her head to toe critically. She suddenly felt self-conscious. Thranduil’s serious gaze and his tilted head made her think her dress and appearance was horrible. 

 

“You don’t look bad…” he said as if he was talking about an old horse he was going to buy with a few coins. “But that dress definitely lacks something!”

 

By then Leuthil was feeling really bad. The dress that had seemed very beautiful to her just moments ago now seemed ugly and horrible. And since it was her own choice of model and material she felt even more down.

 

“Hmmm…” Thranduil said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I might know how to remedy that!”

 

Then under the queen’s depressed gaze he walked to a drawer on the bedside table and took a velvet cloth out. Then he slowly walked back to Leuthil and unfolded the cloth revealing a silver tiara adorned with sapphire stones.

 

The queen gasped by the sight the perfect piece. She darted her gaze disbelievingly from the tiara to Thranduil and back. When the king found she was speechless he chuckled.

 

“The dress is perfect by the way!” he smiled. “I was just teasing you!”

 

“How…how did you know what color…” she stammered as she reached to touch the diadem.

 

“I might have paid a visit to your tailor asking to see the garment you had ordered…” Thranduil explained as he took the tiara and fixed it on her hair with care.

 

“I don’t know what to say…” she said looking at him with grateful eyes.

 

He chuckled again and embraced her. She reveled in the feeling of his strong arms around her. He had been so busy with his affairs in the past weeks that she felt so lonely. Guilt filled her heart as she remembered that she had found herself bending towards Glorfindel from loneliness and the thought made her bury her face deeper in Thranduil’s chest. She wouldn’t change him with the entire Arda.

 

“Well I should go…” Thranduil sighed as he let go of her. “I have to pay a visit to the bride and the groom before the ceremony starts…”

 

Leuthil suddenly felt cold when he broke the embrace but Thranduil did not seem to notice as he walked to the shelf and took out two boxes. He waved at her playfully and walked out of the door.

 

 

 

The palace was a chaos and the servants ran back and forth in the corridors bumping into each other. Food and drinks were being carried to the royal gardens where the feast was held and already the sound of the music was being heard.

 

Thranduil walked towards a door of a chamber where he knew Galdor was getting ready. When he turned on the corner he saw the noldor twins hidden behind a pillar and giggling like crazies. Thranduil’s sharp eyes immediately spotted an old jewelry box in their hands. As a child the king himself was a impish brat and so he knew when the smell of mischief was in the air and when Galdor burst out of the room frantically calling for a guard his doubt was turned to certainty.

 

When a guard ran to the steward Thranduil heard Galdor explain that the wedding gift he had for Aleth was missing and the poor steward sounded almost hysteric. At the same moment the twins slipped from behind the pillar into the darkness to sneak away when they almost ran into Thranduil.

The black haired twins suddenly lost all the colors in their faces as they stood face to face with the king.

 

“Lord Galdor…” Thranduil called out not taking his eyes off Elladan and Elrohir.

 

It took Galdor a few seconds to follow the king’s voice and find them in the curve of the corridor. He eyed the twins suspiciously before bowing to Thranduil.

 

“I believe the lords of Imladris have _accidentally_ taken a jewelry box from your chamber.” The king said sternly stretching his hand in front of the twins for them to hand the box.

 

“W…we don’t know what you’re talking about my king.” One of the twins said as the other one nodded.

 

“Lord Elladan, your father may buy your lies but I was once the most wicked adolescent history had ever seen.” Thranduil chuckled. “Stop trying to compete with my wits with your young brains…”

 

The twins gazed at each other with meaningful looks and for the hundredth time Thranduil marveled at the fact that how identical they were and how similar they were to Elrond. Slowly Elladan brought the box forth and placed it in Thranduil’s stretched hand.

 

It was as if an air of tension was lifted when the king took the box and chuckled lightly.

“Now young lords…” he said. “Sir Esfandyar, the stables master, needs a hand for tonight since there are many horses coming with the many guests tonight. He had asked me to send help for gathering the horses’ excretion so that we can use them as fertilizer afterwards.” The king hardly suppressed the urge to chuckle at the twins faces as he continued. “I must demand that you go and give him a hand for tonight until the wedding is over and our guests are gone.”

 

Again the twins looked at each other with disbelief and then back at Thranduil. This time it was Elrohir who spoke up.

“Your majesty…” he said slowly. “You can’t mean that…”

 

“Oh I mean it…” Thranduil confirmed with a casual smile.

 

“We are the lords of Imladris…” Elladan almost cried. “You cannot ask us to do the job of stable boys.”

 

“I did not ask you lord Elladan…” Thranduil said steadfastly with that annoying smile. “I _ordered_ you!”

 

Elrohir seemed to have accepted the punishment for his misdeeds but Elladan who was the more confident one argued further.

“If my father hears about this…” he threatened. “He would declare a war against you!”

 

“Oh I believe lord Elrond will be happy to see his brats finally facing the consequences of their actions.” Thranduil said calmly. “And I will make sure that happens. When you leave Greenwood, you will change from adolescent monsters to lords worthy of Imladris and her people.”

 

The twins still stared at the king with shock and eyes wide with disbelief as if he was speaking an alien language. Clearly as they were the sons of the great Elrond no-one had ever had the nerve to punish these two for their deeds and Elrond; being so calm and kind had shown too much tenderness towards his sons after their mother’s death. Thranduil was about to change that. The lord of Rivendell had supported him many times and he would pay him back a little by showing the real world to his sons.

 

“I will get the report of your job from the stables master…” Thranduil finally said motioning with his head for the twins to leave.

 

The brothers would have glared at him if they had dared but they merely walked away in silence. When they disappeared in the corridors Galdor approached the king.

“Was this punishment really necessary…?” he asked.

 

“Oh I wasn’t punishing them for just teasing you…” Thranduil said. “They also placed a tarantula on my desk after our first meeting.”

 

Galdor’s eyes widened and then he burst into laughter. He and Galdion were perhaps the only ones that knew Thranduil’s phobia of spiders and their species. The fact that the twins had teased Thranduil with his worst fear was amusing for the steward.

 

“Shut up…” Thranduil said as he walked inside Galdor’s room. “I can still change my mind on this marriage!”

 

Galdor suppressed the urge to laugh further as he closed the door behind him. With his eyes Thranduil took permission for opening the box in his hand and when he saw the jewel he smiled.

 

“The Huma…” he recognized fondly. “Aleth will love it.”

 

Galdor blushed as he took the box from the king’s hand and placed it on the desk in front of the mirror.

 

“You look handsome by the way…”  Thranduil commented scanning the stewards and his Golden robes.

 

“Thank you…” Galdor smiled and blushed even further.

 

Thranduil chuckled. Then he walked closer to the steward and placed his hands heavily on his shoulders. Looking deep into those dark eyes he said the piece he had to say.

“Galdor I trust you with my life…and you know it.” the king said slowly as if he wanted to instill every word in his friend’s mind. “But if you ever upset my sister. I _will_ kill you…”

 

“I know you would…” Galdor chuckled nervously. “I will die voluntarily before upsetting her.”

 

“Good!” Thranduil smiled as he let go of the steward’s shoulders and took out a small box from his robes. “Now, I have something for you…”

 

“Thranduil you didn’t have to…” Galdor moaned.

 

“Oh I _had_ to…” the king interrupted. “I don’t want my brother-in- law’s family to gossip about my niggardliness!”

 

Galdor chuckled and shook his head as he took the box from Thranduil and slowly opened it. He gasped instinctively when his eyes fell on the golden brooch.

He had seen the sign of the royal family enough to recognize it from a mile away; a stag running among beech trees fixed in a golden loop. This sign was first designed by Oropher to distinguish the members of his family from others. None other than the royal family of Greenwood was allowed to wear this brooch.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor gasped and looked up at the king who was looking at him with a smile. “You cannot give me this. It’s the sign of your family; those connected to you by blood!”

 

“You were my brother metaphorically…” Thranduil said. “Now you are literary my brother. Wear it with pride since you’ve proven a hundred times that you deserve it.”

 

The king smiled at the tears that were welling in the steward’s eyes. He tapped him on the shoulder and walked to the door. Before leaving he stopped to look back since Galdor had called him with an almost inaudible tone.

 

“Thank you Thranduil…” the steward whispered.

 

“It’s alright…” the king smiled.

 

“No…” Galdor interrupted firmly. “Thank you for _everything_.” His voice wavered from the flood of emotions. “For the life you gave me…”

 

“I owe you a hundred lives Galdor…” Thranduil said seriously. “You deserve happiness more than all of us.”

 

The king then walked out of the door and closed it behind him. He strode towards another chamber two corridors away. He knocked before entering and when he heard Aleth’s voice he turned the handle and walked inside the chamber.

 

The princess was surrounded with three maids that were attending to her and the moment Thranduil entered they curtsied for their king.

 

“Good afternoon ladies…” Thranduil smiled.

 

“We are done here your majesty…” the head maid said and gestured for the rest to follow her out of the room and give the siblings some privacy.

When the door was finally closed Thranduil turned to have a good look at his sister. Her dress was crimson with embroideries of silver on its fabric. The cut showed her magnificent body and the collar was loose to manifest the milky skin of her chest. On her head was a tiara that had the design of leaves and a crimson tulle was attached to it, partly covering her golden hair that was standing with natural curls to her waist.

 

Aleth followed Thranduil’s gaze as it roamed up and down her form.

“Do you like it?!” she asked shyly.

 

Thranduil smiled and walked closer caressing her face tenderly.

“It’s perfect…” he said looking deep into her eyes.

 

“Then why do you look sad?” she asked concerned.

 

Thranduil was surprised at how easily Aleth had read his expression.

“I just wished naneth and Adar could be here to see you today…” he said sadly. “Though I doubt father would’ve appreciated your choice of spouse.”

 

“Don’t say that…” Aleth nagged as she punched his arm playfully making her brother chuckle. Then her expression became serious and she held his arm gently. “ _You_ are here…” she said. “That’s enough for me.”

 

Thranduil smiled and cupped her face, placing a kiss on her forehead. Then he looked her in the eye.

“Aleth I know that I’m handing you to the most trustable ellon on Arda…I know that he will never stop loving you and that he would raise your child like his own…” he said seriously. “But do not forget that I’m your brother and whenever you have a problem you _have to_ come to me; eve if you have issues with Galdor.”

 

“I promise big brother!” she smiled and kissed his cheek.

 

“Now time for your present.” Thranduil declared and opened the lead of the box revealing a necklace of gold and ruby.

The princess grinned fondly while she followed Thranduil with her sparkling eyes as he turned her around and placed the necklace on her bare neck.

 

“Now I know why the maids insisted on not wearing anything around my neck!” she giggled, admiring the necklace in the mirror. “It’s beautiful Thranduil…” 

 

“Not half as beautiful as what Galdor has for you…” the king winked at her in the mirror.

 

“Really?!” she said enthusiastically turning to face her brother again. “What is it?”

 

“I will not ruin the groom’s surprise…” he said sternly.

 

Aleth giggled like an excited elfling and turned again towards the mirror to check herself one last time.

 

“If you’re ready we shall go…” Thranduil said offering his arm which Aleth took as she inhaled deeply to chase the anticipation away.

 

“I’ve been ready for centuries…” she whispered more to herself which made Thranduil shake his head miserably.

 

***

 

Galdor didn’t remember how it came to this. He didn’t remember anything of ceremony. The steward only knew that throughout the whole thing he was enchanted by the beauty of the princess and thus saw nothing of what was going on around him. He remembered standing on the end of the hall with the high guests sitting as witnesses. And he remembered feeling restless, fearing that somehow Aleth would leave him standing there.

But to his relief the princess had appeared being escorted by her brother. Galdor didn’t remember anything else from that moment. He didn’t remember how he took Aleth’s arm from Thranduil and he didn’t even see the king wink at him playfully. He also didn’t know how he had said his vows and placed the ring on her slender finger.

 

Now he sat behind the royal table with his new wife, the king and the queen; watching the elves celebrate. The sun had set and strangely he didn’t even remember how the day came to night. The music was played continuously and the potent wine that was served in huge barrels that were all coming straight from the king’s personal storage had made the Silvan crazy. With the traditional ceremony ending the gates of the palace had opened to welcome all the king’s subjects to a feast that would probably last until dawn.

 

When Thranduil raised from his seat, miraculously all the attention was directed to him and the entire courtyard fell silent as the king seemed to have a speech. For the thousandth time Galdor admired Thranduil for having the confidence to talk in front of countless pairs of eyes.

 

“Welcome my guests.” The king started. “I hope you’re all enjoying the evening.”

 

The deafening cheers after his first sentence were proof to that. The king waited until the cheers died down.

“It is definitely a joyful night for me and my family and I wanted to share my happiness with all of my subjects in these grave times…” he continued. “The drink and food and music will be here for you to enjoy until the last one of you faints from exhaustion.”

 

The laughter and cheers again rose from the crowd and they banged their cups of wine on the tables in a gesture of appreciation.

 

“And yet…” Thranduil said aloud silencing the crowd. “I have another good news for you.”

 

The courtyard was dead silent as the king glanced at his wife fondly and looked back at his subjects.

“Not only the new stronghold will be a new safe home for all of us but it will also welcome a prince or a princess of Greenwood in a few months…”   

 

It took a moment for the drunken elves to comprehend what their king had said, but when they did the sound of cheers and joyful blessings filled the courtyard as the king sat down again bidding the musicians to continue.  

 

And so the feast officially began. The elves were dancing and singing like crazies as if this was their last night alive. From time to time one noble lord came forth and offered the young couple a gift as they sat at the royal table.

 

Aleth sat between Galdor and Thranduil. She was unable to wipe the grin from her face. Long she had waited for this. She felt revived. As if she had been lingering in a nightmare and now she had awaken. Her lover’s hand was in hers and she played with his calloused fingers absentmindedly. She was his now and even if all Middle-Earth would attack them with a great army of dragons they would not be able to separate them.

 

On Thranduil’s right, the queen watched the feast merrily. Knowing that her friend and her lover were now happy she felt light. Her thoughts however were interrupted when she saw the Balrog Slayer approaching the table.

 

“Lord Glorfindel…” Thranduil greeted. “Are you having a good time?!”

 

“A great time my king…” Glorfindel smiled then he darted his gaze on the queen and back to the king. “I was wondering if I could have the permission of asking her majesty for a dance.”

 

Leuthil’s heart dropped in her chest as she shot a surprised look at the lord and then to her husband whom to her surprise nodded with a smile. And then without even knowing what was happening she was swept away by Glorfindel and when she realized she was already moving with the tune with the lord of the Golden Flower.

 

“You look lovely my lady…” he commented with a smile as they danced.

 

“Thank you my lord…” Leuthil said. “You look handsome as well.”

 

“Is that why you steal your eyes from me?” the lord said sharply.

 

Instinctively the queen looked up into those clear blue eyes that were regarding her with expectation. However what they expected was a mystery to her.

 

“That’s better…” the lord grinned when her eyes met his. Then he glimpsed at the king who was sipping from probably his twentieth glass of wine. He wasn’t even looking their way. It was a shame since Glorfindel wanted to know if Thranduil felt at least a tingle of jealousy for his wife. He looked back at the dark lady dancing with him.

 

“I never saw his majesty dancing with you tonight my lady…” Glorfindel noted.

 

“I believe he’s not in the mood…” Leuthil said.

 

“Or perhaps he’s afraid of being tipsy after consuming a barrel of wine!” Glorfindel said mischievously.

 

Leuthil’s glare made him realize that he has crossed his limits so he chuckled to give the queen the impression that he had been joking though truly he was startled by the amount of alcohol the king drank and how it seemed that it had no effect on him.

 

“I didn’t mean to criticize your king my lady!” Glorfindel smiled and he felt the queen significantly relax as he swept her in a turn and caught her again. Her back was to his front as for a second he held her like that. Her warm body felt so soft against his that he suppressed an urge to sigh disappointedly at the loss of contact when they had to separate again due to the change of tune.

Again she was facing him with one of her hands on his shoulder and the other in his palm. He looked deep into her eyes as he felt her dark hair brush the back of his hand where it rested on her waist.

 

“I think…” he whispered. “…that the king is a loser for not dancing with you tonight.”

 

Leuthil smiled shyly but didn’t find the right words for a stinging answer. She also wished Thranduil would take her for a dance on this happy evening but she had surrendered to the fact that the king had lost the joy for these kinds of merriment a long time ago. Her eyes found her husband and saw that he was looking at something very gravely. But before she could see what had caught Thranduil’s attention she was swept in another turn and Glorfindel blocked her vision.

 

“You never told me you were expecting…” the lord said.

 

“The king had preferred to keep it a secret…” she explained.

 

“I must say I am disappointed that you never told me since I thought we were close…” Glorfindel said.

 

“It was never my intention to make you feel that way…” she responded. “But I had to obey my husband’s wishes…”

 

“Your husband’s wishes…or your king’s?” the lord asked seriously.

 

Leuthil again lacked words. She opened her mouth and closed it a few times like a choking fish before closing it completely and looking away from Glorfindel’s expectant gaze. If she was honest with herself she didn’t really know where the line between _king_ Thranduil and Thranduil as her husband was. Again she looked up again at the elf with the crown of leaves, wishing that he would save her from this awkward situation and the Balrog Slayer’s words that planted seeds of doubt in her heart with every meeting.

 

But the king clearly wasn’t paying attention to the Balrog Slayer dancing with his wife since his attention was caught by Miklovand who was sitting at the edge of a table and drinking wine. Thranduil didn’t even notice when Galdor and Aleth stood and walked away to join the dances as he was so caught in watching his step-brother. The captain of the guard was clearly drunk to his limits and the hostile expression on his face with which he regarded the newlywed couple scared the king. When Miklovand rose to his feet Thranduil’s heart missed a beat as he predicted that the pest might cause trouble. But the black haired elf stumbled away and disappeared through the palace gates.

 

For the first time in his long life Thranduil was concerned for that blasted elf, though he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because he had never seen Miklovand drunk. In all the centuries that he had grown up with the elf he had never seen him tipsy like that. The dark haired elf didn’t even know how to enjoy himself with a cup of wine, so conservative he was.  The king blinked a few times and looked around the feast only to catch Alheru’s gaze who had also seen the drunken captain leave for the palace. The lord’s face reflected his own concern and so without another word Thranduil slowly stood as not to disturb the merry making around them. From the corner of his eyes he saw Alheru stand as well as if in a silent agreement and as the king walked towards the palace gates cautious as not to worry the bride and the groom, the lord also followed him a step behind.

 

The palace was desolate. If someone would have murdered another in these corridors no one would have known. Thranduil saw a shadow at the end of the corridor and walked towards it. Alheru followed him in silence. The emptiness of the palace made the king shiver and the hair on the back of his neck stood up like needles. The staircase they were climbing was rarely used. It leaded to one of the watch towers of the palace. This particular one was one of the highest with at least a hundred stairs.

 

When the shadow finally disappeared from his view in the end of the snake like staircase they heard a cracking sound of a door and Thranduil knew well that Miklovand had entered the roof of the watch tower. He sped, climbing the steps two at a time not caring if his father in law fell behind. He couldn’t help the disturbing feeling he had, that something ill was about to happen.

 

He pulled the heavy wooden door with haste and stepped on the roof. Cool air caressed his face and it was then that he noticed he had sweated from stress and the many steps he had climbed. The watch tower was a round space as big as a small room. It was open aired with a stone ridge built around it to prevent the guards on watch duty from falling accidentally. Thranduil’s hand flew to his mouth to suppress the gasp escaping him as he caught the sight of Miklovand standing on the ridge looking down.

 

The captain was drunk and he was swayed even by the wind. It was a surprise that he had kept his balance this far. Thranduil heard Alheru enter the roof and he turned sharply, silencing the lord with a finger on his lips. A single wrong noise and they would startle Miklovand to fall off the tower. Slowly the king walked closer wondering what had caused the dark elf to go up there, to endanger his life. He thought about grabbing his step-brother and pulling him back with force but he knew he wouldn’t get that close without being noticed. Besides even if he could reach him the captain was much heavier than him and he might not be able to pull him back without falling himself.

 

“Miklovand…” he called in a calm whisper as not to startle him. But despite all this the captain looked over his shoulder sharply and growled.

 

“Don’t come closer!” he snarled and made Thranduil halt in fear.

 

“Miklovand what are you doing?!” the king bellowed.

 

For a few moments no answer came from the elf. He was looking down from the high tower as if calculating the distance to the earth. It gave Thranduil a chance to get a little closer before Miklovand looked at him again and yelled. “Stay where you are!”

 

Thranduil froze again, his heart beating in his ears. Miklovand’s face was twisted in mental agony and his snarls was animalistic making Thranduil fear that the ellon had lost his mind to alcohol and some unknown sorrow. He could still hear the sounds of the feast and marveled at how easily one’s position can change. The captain turned again, looking down.

“Do you think it would hurt?” he whispered more to himself.

 

Thranduil’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Miklovand was thinking about killing himself and he couldn’t let that happen. As the king, as the host, and as a step-brother he had to stop this. No matter how much he disliked the elf, Miklovand was his father’s son; and he would not watch him die.

 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, trying to sound calm but failing miserably.

 

“Because you took _everything_ from me!” the captain cried to Thranduil’s surprise as he looked over his shoulder revealing his swollen eyes. Thranduil was puzzled but Miklovand continued and made everything crystal clear to him in his drunkenness.

 

“I loved her…” the captain wept loudly. “I wanted her for myself. And you gave her to that filth!”

 

Every piece fell into place in Thranduil’s mind; the hostility between Galdor and Miklovand, the anger Miklovand had shown upon hearing about the marriage. As a brother and as someone who had hated that black haired pest his entire life he was surprised that he found no anger inside his heart but only pity.

 

“You ruined my childhood with Ada, My father died because of you; my days became dark in your rein…” Miklovand cried aloud. “But it wasn’t enough…now you took away my love as well.”

 

The captain was weeping so hard that he couldn’t sense Thranduil and Alheru taking more steps towards him.

“You shattered my hopes…” he screamed to the sky. “I can’t take it anymore…”

 

Finally Thranduil was close enough to touch the elf. He knew he was supposed to wait until Alheru was positioned close so that they could pull back the warrior together but everything happened fast. In his drunkenness Miklovand finally lost balance and almost fell of the ridge. It was only fortunate that Thranduil was fast enough to jump and grab his belt. For a moment the king thought the heavy weight elf will pull him down and they would both end up dead on the wedding table several foots below the watch tower. But Alheu was fast enough as he grabbed Miklovand’s boots and together they pulled him from the ridge.

 

Miklovand’s entire weigh was dropped on Thranduil when the captain’s feet touched the tower’s roof but was unable to burden the drunken body of their master. Although the king was strong but the pressure of the scene had worn him down and he sank to the floor by the heavy weight of his step-brother atop him.

 

Thranduil sat there on his knees breathing hard as if he had ran miles; Miklovand was still in his arms with his head and torso resting heavily on the king’s chest. It seemed that neither Miklovand had the strength to lift his body nor Thranduil had the will to shove the elf away.

 

“If she had loved you… I swear I would’ve never tried to separate you.” Thranduil breathed to the devastated elf that had collapsed on his chest. “But she chose another.”

 

For a long while Miklovand said nothing and Thranduil thought he had fallen sleep. Alheru stood there patiently waiting for things to calm down. After long moments the dark haired captain stirred and to Thranduil’s surprise he clutched the king’s tunic and inhaled deeply.

“You smell like adar…” Miklovand sighed. His eyes then closed and he fell into a deep drunken slumber.

 

By these last words Thranduil’s ruin was completed. Alheru could see that as he watched tears pull in his aquamarine eyes. The father in law reached down and pulled the numb body of the captain off his king. Together they pulled the sleep Miklovand up by his shoulders and carried him out of the watch tower.

 

 

In silence they took him to his chambers that fortunately were close. Miraculously they encountered no-one along the way. When they entered Miklovand’s chamber for the first time Thranduil realized that he had never been in his step-brother’s room his entire life. The room was a normal size chamber with an adjoined bathing room. It was very similar to that of Thranduil when he had not yet married and moved to the royal chambers. The bed was placed flushed to the wall and though it was made and neat the blankets and the pillows had the shape of a strong heavy body on them; as if the captain had laid atop the bed in exhaustion, too tired or careless to slip under the blankets. There was a writing desk facing the window with pieces of paper on it but what caught Thraduil’s attention after they had lain Miklovand on the bed with all the care possible was a piece of hard paper, almost the size of a big palm that was placed on the bedside table. It was a drawing of his father; Oropher, with the crown that now belonged to Thranduil. Although only painted with black ink it was very much alive and those eyes pierced deep into Thranduil’s soul as if they were actually looking at him; reproaching him as always. Thranduil knew Miklovand never had any skills in art and so the picture must have been painted by someone else and he had to admit the anonymous artist had been a skilled one. Somehow the style of the drawing and the way the brush had been moved around the paper was very familiar to Thranduil, but he couldn’t remember where or in which painting he had seen it. Strangely it reminded him of inked hands of a female but the memory was too vague for him to linger on. It almost broke his heart to see the paper was stained with dried drops; probably tears. He placed the drawing back where it was and along with Alheru who had watched him the entire time they started relieving the captain from his strict clothing. Thranduil pulled his boots of and Alheru opened the ties of his tight tunic and then finally the king pulled a blanket atop the captain.

 

“I’ll watch over him…” the lord whispered to him as he glanced pitifully at Miklovand who was dead asleep. “You should go back to the feast before your absence is noted.”

 

The last thing Thranduil had the mood for was the merry party in his courtyard. But he had no other option. It wasn’t every day that his sister would be married and he was expected to be there at least for another hour or so. So he nodded at his father in law and with another glance at the captain he walked out of the chamber.

 

Once he reached the feast again the fireworks had started and the joyful elves were all cheering with the magnificent performance as they stared at the sky. He used the distraction to reach the royal table without notice and slumped down on his seat beside Galdor and immediately gestured to a servant to bring him wine.

 

“Where were you?” Galdor asked worriedly. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes, yes…everything is perfect.” Thranduil smiled reassuringly. “I just needed air.”

 

He didn’t know how much he had convinced Galdor but the steward nodded after a few seconds.

“Where is Leuthil?” the king asked as he peered around to find his wife.

 

“She was tired…” Aleth who was sitting on the other side of Galdor answered. “She retired.”

The princess then rose to her feet. “I might as well go to my chambers if I may.” She asked her brother sweetly.

 

“Of course dear…” Thranduil smiled and pointed at her to lean so he could place a kiss on her cheek. “Congratulations again.”

 

She grinned and then she glanced at Galdor and smiled before she curtsied and left.

 

“Erhan!” Thranduil called and the sentry appeared immediately.

 

“Yes your majesty?” he said.

 

Galdor didn’t miss the slight gaze the guard shot his way but tried to ignore it.

 

“Find Galion and tell him to take some food and wine to the twins, they will be in the stables.” Thranduil explained. “Tell them king Thranduil sends his regards.”

 

“Yes your majesty…” Erhan chuckled and left for the duty.

 

Thranduil noted how Galdor’s gaze followed the young sentry. There was nothing but mistrust in the steward’s dark eyes.

“If you continue to look at him that way he’ll soon grow a hole on the back of his head!” the king chuckled.

 

“I don’t trust him!” Galdor said firmly.

 

“I know!” Thranduil chuckled.

 

“Then why do you keep him so close?” Galdor accused.

 

“You’re jealous because he’s around me more than you!” Thranduil said mischievously as he sipped from the wine. “I happen to enjoy your possessiveness.”

 

“Wh…What?!” Galdor rasped with an open jaw. “That’s not true!”

 

“It is!” Thranduil said as he rose from his seat. “I might as well retire!”

 

“I’m not jealous!” Galdor argued firmly ignoring Thranduil’s last comment.

 

“You are!” Thranduil said before draining his cup and walking towards the gates while he chuckled from teasing the steward.

 

***

 

Aleth sat on the bed listening to the cheers and fireworks outside while her maid lit the candles bringing light to the huge chamber that was Leuthil’s gift to the couple along with its furniture. She was trying to contemplate on the events that had occurred all in that moon. So many they were. She marveled at how her fate had changed on that cursed day and how she had lost all hope. She had lost her innocence, her dignity, her pride and her future. But the latter was wrong. She still could build a future with the one she loved.

 

“May I help you with your clothes your grace?” Jansu said with a smile and snapped her back to reality.

 

Aleth smiled and nodded. The maid blew the candle she had in hand and walked closer. With nimble fingers she untied the knots that had held the diadem on the princess’ head. She had just placed the tiara and the tulle attached to it on the bedside table that Galdor opened the door gently and walked in. Aleth’s heart stirred and unconsciously she stood from where she was sitting on the bed.

 

“My lord!” Jansu curtsied and left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

 

Galdor’s eyes roamed freely over her form making her breath hitch. For the first time in her life he was looking at her with pure love and desire with no side feelings of guilt or shame attached. Slowly the steward came closer and he gently pulled her into his embrace. She sighed as his strong arms wrapped her slim form. His hands travelled up and down her back as he kissed the top of her head several times. Then he slowly broke their embrace and placed her in arm’s length.

 

Many times they had been close. Countless occasions the princess could have smelled the odor of her beloved all over the place but this was different. Now she was his and he was hers; there were no secrets and no fear of separation. Galdor leaned in and gently placed his lips on hers. Her heart missed a few beats as the steward kissed her lightly as if asking for permission. When he pulled back the princess sighed from the loss of contact.

 

“Aleth…” he rasped looking deep into her eyes as he held her by her shoulders. “This can wait if you’re not ready…”

 

“I wish to forget the past…” the princess breathed. “I want this.”

 

Galdor smiled and sealed her lips with his own again this time deeper, more passionate. Her knees felt weak and she was grateful for the supportive hand on her back. Galdor’s fingers tanged in her hair and pulled her head closer. He licked her lower lip and in response she opened her mouth. The steward responded to the invitation as his tongue danced with hers, taking over the kiss. His hands went to the buttons behind her dress and blindly started to undo them. Her dress slipped from her shoulders but she did not care. All she knew was his lover, his taste and his warmth. His hands worked the dress down until it pooled around her feet leaving her with her undergarment; the entire time the kiss was not broken. They only had to break apart when the steward wanted to lift the silken underwear over her head. His eyes grazed at her body hungrily and then his strong arms picked her up and delivered her on the bed gently. Then she felt cold and lonely when Galdor left her to get rid of his own clothes.

 

She breathed hard as she lay there passively. When she no longer felt his hands on her suddenly all the horrible memories came rushing back to her. She remembered how the men had torn her clothes. How they’re filthy hands had touched her, how they had taken their lust on her…suddenly she was filled with disgust and shame and the frantic urge of covering her nakedness; to hide in somewhere dark, away from prying eyes. She thought she would go mad any second and only wished for her lover to return faster. She only knew she had closed her eyes when Galdor’s hands touched her and made them snap open. When she saw her lover’s kind and concerned face and not the foul features of the men she sighed in relief.

 

“Are you alright?” the steward asked gently as he stroked her hair.

 

“Yes…” she whispered with a smiled as she too ran her fingers in his hair. “I’ve never been better.”

 

Galdor grinned before leaning in to kiss her again. His hands discovered every part of her. His naked body pressed against hers but careful not to crush her under him. His lips moved to her jaws and then to her neck. She gasped and twisted when he licked her pointed ears. Then he travelled down to her chest and collarbone. She arched her back and moaned when he took one of her nipples in his mouth and twisted the other in his fingers. Her moans echoed in the room and she raised her legs to brush them on the steward’s sides. Galdor moaned at the contact and released her breast only to kiss the insides of her thighs. He ran his fingers on the marble skin before he settled between her parted legs.

 

“Open your eyes…” he said kindly but firmly.

 

She just realized she had closed them again and she obeyed; opening her aquamarine eyes that were dark with lust and love. A sigh left her lips again when she watched the steward lean to pleasure her with his mouth and she almost cried in pleasure when he found her spot and teased it with her tongue.

She clutched the sheets and twisted it while her moans filled the chamber. Her thoughts were far away from coherent as she reached for Galdor’s hair again. But the steward did not let her climax as he looked up mischievously. She moaned disappointedly when he pulled himself up again.

 

“Together…” he whispered in her ear before licking it again. His hot breath made her crazy with need.

 

He positioned himself, his aroused shaft rubbing against her core. She held her breath and again fear settled in her heart.

 

“Stop me whenever you want…” He said when he saw the tingle of fright in her eyes.

 

“Don’t stop…” she begged. “I’m tired of being afraid. Chase away my fears…please.”

 

And with that Galdor pushed inside her. She cried in pain and pleasure as the steward pierced her body, her nails clawed his back. He hissed from the sting she caused but he did not falter in burring himself deep inside her tight warmth. When he settled himself they both remained like that for a long time reveling in the feeling of joining their bodies as well as their souls. Galdor leaned in for another kiss as slowly he started to rock back and forth.

 

The pleasure was almost unbearable for the princess. Her fears and insecurities forgotten she only allowed herself to be taken by the flood of love that was coming from his beloved. His face was flushed with passion and his eyes were even darker than usual.

She could feel the sensation of pure bliss and with a few other thrusts she was falling from above Mount Doom itself. The princess cried in pleasure and it was enough for Galdor to follow her trail; spilling himself inside her with a roar.

 

They shuddered in each other’s arms, neither of them wishing to move away. Once more the steward’s hands moved across her body and over her belly that was not yet swollen. He kissed her again passionately before collapsing next to her. She crawled upwards and cuddled next to him.

 

The steward suddenly remembered that he had not given her their wedding gift. But when he looked down at her she was fast sleep with her head on his arm. A smile shaped on his lips and once again he kissed her temple. The security and serenity he saw in her face was all he needed for now.  They would have all the time in the world for gifts.

 

***

 

When Thranduil finally opened the door to the royal chambers it was hours past midnight and still the fireworks and the cheers of the merry elves outside could be heard. The room was dark, only lit by the time to time light coming from the fireworks in the night sky.

 

The king’s mind was a mess. Miklovand’s words rang constantly in his ears and the thought that he had almost watched the captain commit suicide made him shiver. When he thought more carefully there were several occasions during his life that he had caught the pest shooting longing gazes towards her sister. But those times had been long ago when their father had been alive and when Aleth’s well-being had been Oropher’s responsibility and not the young prince’s. Still the captain’s drunken confession shocked him. Thranduil knew that if Aleth had ever fallen in love with the pest he would’ve done anything to turn her back from her decision but he would’ve never stopped their union if they had both had wanted each other as Galdor and Aleth loved each other now. He wasn’t the prejudiced macho everyone thought him to be. And now that he knew how much his step-brother had loved the princess the king felt torn. No matter how he disliked the pest his decision to agree with this marriage had taken the warrior to the brink of death and he felt guilty although as a king he had learnt that each decision he made always brought some happiness and some others sorrow.

 

Thranduil sighed quietly as he walked across the room shaking his head as if it would chase the disturbing thoughts away. Leuthil was in bed, sleeping on her side. She had started to go to bed early due to the exhaustion caused by her pregnancy and Thranduil had gotten used to finding her already in bed and deep in sleep when he came late from work of the day. The king took off his regal clothes and threw them wherever they had the head to go. He felt a bit feverish, as if a slight heat was glowing out of his skin. He walked to the bathing chamber and washed his face and naked torso with cool water. When he felt better he slipped under the blankets and cuddled himself close to Leuthil, so that her back was flushed to his front.

 

“So you finally decided to retire!” the queen whispered.

 

“I’m sorry…” Thranduil kissed the back of her neck and circled his arm around her belly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“I wasn’t sleep…” she yawned. “Your child is restless tonight. He’s chasing the sleep away from me.”

 

Thranduil grinned as he caressed her stomach that had become slightly swollen but not noticeable under the garments but only perceived by his prying hands.

“He’s wild just like his father!” Thranduil said and started biting her arm playfully.

 

The queen giggled and tried to wiggle away from him but his strong arms held her in place. She merely managed to stir so that she was now on her back facing him. Thranduil stopped teasing and just gazed at her blue eyes with pure love and admiration. She was beautiful and that was all he knew in this world. This fragile elleth was the joy of his life, the reason he was breathing and the cause of everything he did. His heart paced hard when he noted a hint of concern and sadness in her eyes.

 

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked.

 

Leuthil hesitated for a few moments and even in the darkness of the room he could tell she was looking away. The fireworks cast a red light on her face and this time Thranduil got really worried to see her frowned brow and concerned eyes. He held her chin and turned her face towards himself. “Tell me…” he said tenderly.

 

“What if it’s a girl…” she whispered. “What if I cannot give you an heir?”

 

Thranduil frowned and thought for a few seconds. He then gazed at her lovingly as he still held her chin.

“A daughter with your puffy blue eyes and little nose…dark and beautiful like you.” He said wonderingly as he touched her nose playfully. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”

 

“But Thranduil, you need an heir.” She argued.

 

“I need happiness…” he interrupted firmly. “If happiness comes in the form of a girl, I’ll make sure my daughter will be cherished above any treasure the Elvenking possess.”

 

Thranduil saw relief settling in her eyes, though she didn't say anything.

 

“But I can’t promise that I won’t spoil her beyond imagination!” he added.

 

“Yes that is for sure…” she chuckled before the king sealed her lips with a passionate kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok now I need everybody a huge apology for disappearing off the radar like that. I had some days of exam and just when I had a new chapter ready all the phone lines of our district went down!!!! :-l so I had literary no internet access for ten days!
> 
> So in order to make up for it I'll try to send the next chapter really fast! that is of course if the phone lines won't go down again.
> 
> Here I want to give my thanks to all of those who have been patient with me and tolerated my neglect... I love you and you are the only reason I continue this useless tale of mine!

With the hood of his cloak up to cover his face, Miklovand was like a shadow as he passed close to Southernwood. Passing the borders had become harder and harder with the never ending patrols now. The king had been crystal clear that he did not want the rebels of the south to take a step towards his other lands and the soldiers had taken his words very seriously. The timing of the patrols guarding these borders overlapped making it impossible for anyone to exit or enter the land that had provoked the king’s rage. But Miklovand was not just anyone. He knew the Woodland just as well as Thranduil. He might not have been able to feel the forest but he knew every hidden route, every secret cave and all the underground tunnels better than the patrols.

 

He stood beside the river. The cool breeze coming from the water did nothing to sooth his burning spirit. During the last centuries he had endured a lot. Since his father’s death, life had changed dramatically for him. He had lost the only support he had; the only person who truly loved him. When his step-brother had not expelled him from the palace he had been surprised and hoped things would get better between them. But Thranduil’s rein had brought him nothing but pain and misery. The wrong choices the king had made had ruined his life. Thranduil had taken away the his chance of being the first advisor in the court, he had sent Miklovad on long patrols just for the warrior to be away from the palace and with his last decision of giving Aleth to the captain’s worst enemy, Thranduil had burned his step-brother to the core.   

 

“Good evening captain...” a soft voice said.

 

Miklovand glanced over his shoulder at the elleth standing behind him. Then again he turned away gazing at the river once more. He detested the sight of this she-elf. If he could he would have killed her himself. Morey had been the reason Aleth was hurt this much. Of course Miklovand understood the elleth’s desperation to hurt Thranduil. She was a miserable little thing trying to get a perverse revenge. Miklovand however, could not blame Thranduil for sending Morey away in the first place. The elleth was a slut and no ellon would have accepted her much less a crown-prince. But the captain needed her; at least for now.

 

That small glance had been enough for Morey to see the devastation in the ellon. She understood him. She knew the pain of being rejected by someone you loved. She knew the anger and hatred that followed afterwards. Morey had been around the royal palace a long time to know the princess well. She knew well that Aleth would have never accepted Miklovand’s love. The princess was so close and faithful to her brother that she would have never done anything to hurt him. The affair Aleth had gotten into with the captain centuries ago had been a childish adventure for her but clearly an unforgettable memory for Miklovand. Morey felt sorry for him as she walked a few steps closer.

 

“I heard about the wedding…” she said softly, her green eyes roaming over Miklovand’s back. “I’m sorry. You must feel horrible.”

 

She suppressed her breath when Miklovand turned towards her rapidly. She could tell he was angry and that she had tapped a very fresh wound.

 

“I’m not here to discuss my feelings Morey…” he snapped.

 

“Then what are you here for…?” she asked calmly. “When I heard you’ve come here personally I thought it must be something important.”

 

“The queen…” the captain said angrily. “She’s pregnant.”

 

The rush of feelings towards her heart was almost unbearable. That bitch who had taken Thranduil away from her would be the mother of his child now. Her child would grow up in the royal palace; some prince or princess of the woodland; the son or daughter of the Elvenking. The entire world would know his name while Morey’s child was an unknown village girl among so many others. What difference her daughter had with this royal child? She also had Thranduil’s blood in her veins…she also was born out of love. Of course a one sided love. Miklovand’s voice brought her out of her trance as he grabbed her arm harshly.

 

“Morey, do you understand what this means?” he asked bleakly. “If this child is born, all my efforts would be in vain. Even if Thranduil dies, he would be next in the line of succession.”

 

“That is in case the child is a boy…” Morey reminded.

 

“I cannot take any risks…” the captain breathed.

 

Morey narrowed her catlike eyes and scanned the ellon. “What are saying?” she asked.

 

“I’m saying that this child must not open his eyes to this world.” Miklovand said slowly. The captain knew himself quiet well. He hated Thranduil and his company but he knew that if the king’s child were to be born he would not be able to kill him. He was not coldhearted. He was not a monster. He knew he could be able to end the life of Thranduil’s child; Oropher’s grandchild. He needed this to be done fast, before he set his eyes upon the royal baby.

 

“You want me to kill the queen while she’s pregnant.” Morey clarified with raised eyebrows.

 

“Isn’t it what you always wanted?” Miklovand mimicked her gesture.

 

She had to admit that it indeed was. She wanted to make Thranduil suffer. She wanted him to feel what she had felt when he threw her out of his chamber like a common whore. Morey knew well that nothing brought as much pain to Thranduil as the queen being hurt in any way.

 

“It is…” she said. “But it’s not that easy. The bitch would be guarded more carefully now that she’s pregnant.”

 

“Are you saying you can’t do it?” Miklovand challenged.

 

Morey thought for long moments. She watched Miklovand’s face. All she could see in there was anger and hatred, unleashed to burn everything down. If she would not do this the captain would find another way.

 

“I’ll talk to lord Siavash…” she finally said. “He definitely has someone loyal who would do this.”

 

Miklovand scanned her suspiciously but then he nodded. Lord Siavash had become a very effective ally and it was unlikely that he would let them down as he was equally thirsty to hurt Thranduil.

When the matters were settled the captain placed his hand in his cloak and took out a small bag of coins and placed it in Morey’s palm. The elleth looked at him confused.

 

“I know life’s gotten hard in Southernwood since you’re the subject of the king’s wrath…” he said bitterly. “You might need this…”

 

Morey wanted to give the money back. She was not a beggar and her pride had been injured but what could she do. Miklovand was right; life indeed was almost impossible in Southernwood. There was no food and no supplies and they just managed to buy critical goods from Thranduil’s soldiers thrice the price. Thranduil’s wrath had proved to be much more devastating than they had first thought. She curled her fingers around the bag and nodded her appreciation.

 

Miklovand sighed and turned towards his steed. With one motion he jumped on the saddle while Morey approached the horse. She placed her hand on the mare’s neck as she looked up at him.

 

“I know you feel broken now but perhaps it’s for the best…” she said. “Your wound will heal with time and you can focus your attention on gaining your throne back.”

 

Miklovand did not look down at her but she knew; she had seen the glimpse of tears in his eyes. There was a lump in his throat and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he would have burst into tears right then. She knew that the captain of the royal guard would never be the same again. Miklovand would never forget how he had lost the princess.

 

“No amount of time would heal this wound…” he sighed. Then he kicked his horse and led it towards a secret route on the other side of the river.

 

***

 

As Thranduil looked out from the window of his study he could see the trail of the wheels of a carriage on the forest mossy floor.

 

“Another caravan left the capital an hour ago my king…” he heard Galdor explain. “Aleth was sent with them.”

 

Thranduil sighed and turned towards his steward. The king felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. Aleth would hopefully reach the stronghold in two or three days. He scanned Galdor. The steward was grim. He kept his gaze down and he was deeply in thought. Thranduil walked a few steps closer and tapped his friend on the shoulder making Galdor jump out of his contemplation.

 

“Don’t grieve!” he chuckled. “You’ll be with her in a few weeks.”

 

Galdor turned red as a tomato which made the king chuckle harder, even Aleru who was standing on the other side of the room smirked.

At last Thranduil shook his head and turned away towards his desk.

 

“There is another matter my king…” Galdor said after exchanging a glance with the lord. “Lord Alheru and I thought it is perhaps safer if you send the queen with the next caravan as well.”

 

“Leuthil will travel with me, _as planned_.” Thranduil snapped.

 

“My king, it is not safe!” Galdor said desperately.

 

“I will protect her myself!” Thranduil said defensively.

 

“Thranduil, we already have problems protecting _you_!” Alheru suddenly broke. “How are you going to protect her, when you need others to protect yourself?!”

 

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and walked closer to Alheru. In his military harshness the lord had injured the king’s pride. The younger elf stood with his face inches from his father-in-law.

 

“Do you think of me incapable of protecting my own?” he hissed.

 

Alheru rolled his eyes as if he was dealing with a very stupid elfling. He stepped back in order to be able to look Thranduil in the eye.

“No, I think you are very able of protecting your own…” he said kindly. “But as Leuthil’s father I should think of what is best for her, and as your father I should stop you from making mistakes.”

 

For a few moments Thranduil glared at the lord but then his gaze softened before he looked away. Galdor made use of the moment and stepped forward.

 

“Thranduil, by the time we ought to leave the palace no-one will remain here.” The steward said. “If we send her now she’ll be accompanied with at least fifteen guards.”

 

Thranduil knew these things. He knew it was safer. But he remembered her blue eyes being filled with tears when he had mentioned sending her alone. With her swollen belly she had dropped to her knees to beg her not to do this. However her pleas had not been the only reason he had not already sent her. It had been sometime that the Mirkwood king felt some kind of insecurity. Although he had faith in his immortal life he felt weak and he could not shake the feeling that he had a limited time with her. Sending her away was like taking out his beating heart and throwing it in the river; like cutting an already loose thread.

 

“She begged me not to send her alone…” Thranduil whispered as he lowered his gaze, ashamed that he had been swayed from his decision by the pleas of an elleth.

 

“She is pregnant…her feelings are fragile.” Alheru said tenderly. “Of course she wants to cling to you…you must be the one thinking with your logic.”

 

Thranduil looked up at the lord with uncertain eyes and for a moment Alheru thought he was dealing with the young prince he once was, insecure because of his father’s endless expectations.

 

“The next caravan will leave in three days.” Galdor added.

 

A few moments passed in silence as the lords waited for their king to think. Thranduil finally nodded.

“I’ll talk to her…” he sighed.

 

The lords smiled and Alheru tapped the king on his shoulder victoriously.

There was a knock on the door and Erhan walked in.

 

“My king…” he said. “Lords Elladan and Elrohir are here by your summon.”

 

“Send them in…” Thranduil nodded.

 

“We’ll take our leave…” Alheru said and walked out of the door, Galdor following him.

 

As Thranduil poured himself a cup of wine he watched from the corner of his eyes as the twins entered after Galdor and Alheru left his study. Before the identical Noldor where even in the middle of the room the smell of horses and stables filled the chamber.

The twins bowed to the king but their faces were upset and tired from the full month they were forced to work in the stables like common servants.

 

“You smell of horse shit!” Thranduil noted with a mischievous grin. The twins glanced at each other but said nothing; accepting their defeat silently. The work in the stables had made them so tired that they had no energy for planning any wickedness or even thinking on a good response for the king. They had to admit that the Elvenking had been victorious in teaching them some manners.

 

“I even heard rumors that you’ve written to your lord father, complaining about your situation.” Thranduil chuckled as he sipped from his wine. “Since I did not receive any letters from him I must assume that he approves my methods! At least now you know where your comfort comes from.”

 

The twins merely dropped their heads and for a brief moment Thranduil felt sorry for them. But these two were _almost_ as wicked as he was in that age and the king knew that if he gave an inch of freedom the twins would end up riding him like a mare.

 

“I have a deal for you…” Thranduil finally said.

 

The twins looked up hesitantly, not knowing what to expect from this king. Thranduil took his time sipping from his wine and enjoying their anticipation.

 

“There’s a lot of work to be done around here. The people need help with moving, servants need hand in packing up the palace furniture…” Thranduil explained waving his hand. “Help me around, and I will pay you for it.”

 

“Pay us?” Elladan asked puzzled.

 

“Yes.” Thranduil confirmed. “Lord Galdor will tell you where we need help most, and if he’s satisfied with your work, I’ll pay you three silver coins a week; each!”

 

The boys looked at each other. Being the lords in the last homely house they had never needed money since everything was provided for them. But here in Mirkwood they did not even have new clothes and the tight fisted Elvenking did not spare anything but just simplest comforts that was barely enough for soldiers. The prospect of being paid sounded nice.

 

“Five coins!” Elrohir said then.

 

Thranduil chucked and raised his eyebrows in surprise. These twins were indeed intelligent and he enjoyed the fact that they treated him not as a king but as someone to compete with. It made the king feel young again.

 

“Work for an experimental week and if I’m satisfied I’ll consider five coins…”the king said.

 

Again the twins exchange that look and then Elladan stretched his hand.

“Deal…” he said.

 

Thranduil hardly suppressed a chuckle as he took the Noldor’s hand and then the other twin placed his own palm atop them.

 

“Alright now…” the king finally said. “You may leave…”

 

The twins walked to the door giggling but before they opened the door they halted because of Thranduil’s call.

 

“And my lords…” the king said with his back to them, looking out of the window. “If I ever find another tarantula on my desk, I’ll cut off your wages immediately.”

 

The twins burst into crazy giggle as they exited the study and closed the door.

Thranduil shook his head and chuckled as he drained the cup and placed it back on the small table next to his desk. His eyes then caught the sight of the small musical instrument Elrond had sent him. Remembering the lord of Imladris he marveled for the hundredth time how these monsters could be sons of such a great lord.

 He picked the harmonica from its place and then walked to the window. As he gazed at his forest he placed the instrument on his delicate lips and breathed. During the last months he had learned how to elicit tunes from this strange thing and somehow the faint sound of it calmed him.

The king then lost himself in the notes he brought out of the Harmonica and for a few seconds he forgot his problems in the dimming afternoon.

 

***

 

Leuthil was sitting on the bed when Thranduil walked inside the chamber. Her swollen belly was making it harder for her to move. Although her maid, Liadan, forced her to walk a few hours every day she had a great tendency to only lie down.

She smiled as the king walked closer to her and placed a kiss on her forehead. She looked tired and it worried Thranduil. He knew it was only natural but he could not shake his concern away. He sat next to her and circled his arm around her shoulders. Instinctively she snugged closer to him and placed her head on his shoulder. Although this afternoon visit was strange she did not remark on it. Thranduil did many strange things these days. He drank too much water like a man who has been stuck in a desert for days and she even sometimes found him drinking milk which he used to detest his entire life. She had even caught him sneaking in the chamber and then under the blankets and taking a nap in the middle of the day which was the strangest event for the busy king of Woodland who sometimes even forgot to sleep during the night. But the queen placed the blame of this strange behavior on the shoulders’ of the move which was taking its toll on Thranduil.

 

“Leuthil, I thought a lot…” Thranduil finally whispered after moments of silence. “You should leave with the next caravan.”

 

The king had predicted his wife’s reaction. She jumped out of his embrace as if he had some kind of elvish disease and then she hopped to her feet.

“No Thranduil!” she snapped. “We talked about this.”

 

“Yes and then I thought about it more.” Thranduil stood as well. “It’s too dangerous. You should leave while I still have guards to send with you.”

 

“Thranduil look at me!” the queen cried, pointing at her weak and swollen body. “Can you not imagine how uncomfortable I’ll be with a bunch of guards without you by my side?” She then walked closer to her husband. “ _Please_ Thranduil, don’t send me alone.”

Thranduil knew well that the queen was placing her finger on his weakest spots.

 

“You’ll not be alone…” he defended. “Your maids and healers will be with you.”

 

“I don’t need maids and healers…” she wept as she picked at the buttons of his tunic. “I need _you_.”

 

Thranduil knew that she was getting under his skin yet again and he had to be strong. He had to protect her even from herself. So the king placed his hands on hers and took them off his person. She looked up at him with wide eyes, not believing the hard face of her husband.

 

“My decision is final Leuthil…” Thranduil said firmly before walking out of the chamber.

 

 

When the queen was left alone in the chamber again she could only sit on the bed and weep silently. She was miserable. Her back ached. Her knees were sore and her mood had dropped dramatically. Leuthil knew that Thranduil had his reasons for this decision, but she too had her own reasons. She needed his support and could not even imagine travelling up north without him. So the queen cried like a little girl until after almost an hour Laidan entered the chamber carrying folded sheets.

 

“My lady?” the maid gasped when she saw Leuthil sitting crossed legged on the bed and weeping. She ran to her side. “What’s wrong my lady?”

 

“Thranduil wants to send me with the next caravan!” the queen wept in a very unqueenly manner that made it hard for Liadan to suppress a chuckle. She sat with her lady for a while and rubbed her back soothingly until the queen calmed a bit.

 

“I’ve warmed the bath my lady…” the maid finally said. “It would sooth your sorrows.”

 

Leuthil nodded and accepted her maid’s hand as she helped her stand and walk out of the room.

As many of the residents of the palace had already left, there was no one to bring warm water to the baths inside the chambers and that luxury was over for now. Instead everyone used the public baths of the palace which was originally used by servants and guards. The bathing chamber assigned for the king’s household for now was a few corridors away from the royal bedchambers.

 

It was a huge chamber covered with polished stones. There was a big stone pool in the middle that was overlapped with steaming water.

 Liadan closed the door behind them and then helped her lady undress. Her huge belly made it hard for her to walk much less undress. Leuthil sighed contently as she stepped in the warm water with care. The liquid embracing her made it hard for her to think of her problems.

 

“Perhaps his majesty is right…” the queen heard her maid as she poured warm water on her shoulders with a bowl. “The sooner you arrive in the stronghold, the sooner you’ll be more comfortable, my lady.”

 

Leuthil did not remark on her words as the warm water had made her mind numb. The baby inside her womb kicked and made her smile as she massaged her belly. The thought of her child lifted her spirit. In a few months she would be holding him and nothing would be able to ruin their happiness.

 

“Oh my!” Liadan gasped. “I forgot your soup my lady. I’ll go fetch it.”

 

The queen chuckled as her made ran out of the bathing chamber like a scared doe and closed the door behind her. It would take her a while to reach the chamber and come back so Leuthil had a little time for herself to relax without her maid fussing over her.

The queen leaned her head on the edge of the pool and closed her eyes. No sensation was better than this. Her body was enfolded in warm water and the steam caressed her face and closed eyelids. She sighed and smiled to herself silently thinking that she would talk again with Thranduil and sway him again. As she was contemplating on what to say to evoke the king’s pity the sound of the wooden door snapped her out of her thoughts.

It was impossible for Liadan to have returned so fast unless she had returned in midway.

 

“Did you forget something else?” the queen asked with a chuckle as she opened her eyes.

 

Leuthil’s eyes widened when she saw an elleth with the servant uniforms standing beside the pool. She had never seen this girl and had no idea why she was there. But before she could open her mouth to ask, the elleth rushed towards her and without sparing a moment for the queen to make a sound she pushed Leuthil’s head under the warm water.

 

The shock was too much. The queen did not even have enough time to take a breath before being pushed under the water. She tried fighting her way up but the hand holding her down was too strong and her body to frail due to her pregnancy. The elleth had her fingers buried in Leuthil’s hair and was keeping her down with her entire weigh. The queen struggled for the sake of her child if not for her own sake. Her naked legs cut the surface of the water in frantic kicks and her hands blindly sought for a hold to pull herself up but to no avail; the edges of the pool were too slippery for her to find a hold. Water splashed around as Leuthil wrestled for her life but it seemed that no amount of force could move this strong female murderer.

 

The queen could feel all precious air leaving her lungs. Instinctively she tried to breathe which only filled her mouth and nose with water. Her screams were muffled by the liquid and she could feel her body weakening; succumbing to an inevitable death.

 

 

 


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that again it took me long to send another chapter! I have no excuses this time but only my own lack of motivation...but anyhow I finally wrote it.
> 
> I'm sorry if this chapter is divided into many sections but I needed to end this part of the tale...it was taking to much of my energy.
> 
> I thank all of those who have read this fic and specially those of you who have stayed with me and took the time to comment. Your reviews is what keeps me writing :)

As Glorfindel sat in his chamber, his mind wandered miles away to Rivendell. He thought about the many years he had lived in the valley and the things he had seen and felt. For him for many years now Imladris had been summarized into blue eyes and raven black hair. He no longer saw the waterfall or the yellow leaves of the fall. He no longer felt the beauty of the city as his mind was set on only one beauty; the lady of Imladris.

 

The Balrog Slayer remembered the day Arwen was born. She had been such a pretty baby, looking up at them with huge blue eyes that were wide with anticipation of what they would face in this strange word. He had loved to play with the baby of his closest friend and when he went on patrols he was always on his toes to return to her. Their intimate friendship had lasted until Arwen had grown to a fair lady. His was the one showing her the wonders of the world. It was his shoulder Arwen had cried on when her mother left.

 

Immortality is a strange thing. He did not know whether it was a blessing or a curse. In a human life people aged with relation to each other; a toddler could never reach an equivalent adult in years. But elves were different. Glorfindel had watched Arwen grown into a beautiful lady while he himself had not aged bodily. She had soon reached her; physically if not mentally, and the lord had found himself under her charm. Soon the beauty of her eyes had taken his breath away and the darkness of her hair had become the sole picture in his mind when he looked up at the midnight sky.

 

Absentmindedly Glorfindel touched the brooch on his tunic. It was a twisted shape of a golden flower she had gifted him on some long ago occasion. He remembered it vaguely but perhaps it was on that night when he had confessed his love to her and learned that she did not return his affections. His life had turned to a bitter existence after that.

 

The lord stood from his place and stretched his body. He needed to forget. In fact coming to Mirkwood had been very helpful. It had taken his mind off Elrond’s daughter. But on the other hand his residence in the forest had occupied his mind elsewhere. The queen of Mirkwood had found her way into his heart and Glorfindel was feeling many emotions all at once. A weigh was being lifted form his heart as he was gradually tending to his wounded spirit and he had to admit that Leuthil had had a great role in that, but again the presence of the queen, warm and pleasant as it was, was a new weigh on his heart since he knew he should never feel these things that he was feeling now to any married elleth much less king Thranduil’s wife.

Glorfindel decided to take a walk in the courtyard. The fresh air would clear his sour mood and so he walked out of the door and into the corridors.

 

The halls of Imladris were open so as one walked around them he could always know his exact location in the last homely house. But here in this forsaken palace the corridors were like a maze and despite his wits the lord found it hard not to get lost.

 

He found himself in a very unfamiliar part of the palace and in the middle of a very long hall with tall windows. Judging the location of the sun he was probably on the west side of the building and probably on the private wing of the royal family. He turned left on a corner to get himself on the east side only to hear the strangest noises.

 

He heard sounds of someone hitting frantically on a wooden door and when he got closer he recognized Liadan, the queen’s maid, as she was calling her lady worriedly and knocking hard on a wooden door which seemed to be the entrance to one of the public bathing chambers.

 

“Mistress Liadan?” he called as he approached the lady fast. “What’s wrong?”

 

“My lord!” the elleth cried in worry. “I left my lady inside the bathing chamber minutes ago to fetch something. The door is locked from inside and she doesn’t open!”

 

Gorfindel’s heart started beating very fast. He approached the door and knocked forcefully.

“Lady Leuthil!” he called aloud as the force of his fist rumbled the door.

 

When no answer came he pressed his ear on the wooden surface. With his sharp elven senses he could dully hear the sound of water splashing. Something stirred inside him with worry as the lord felt something was terribly wrong.

 

“Stand back…” he ordered the elleth and he aimed for the entrance.

 

With his strong body he hit the door several times. The wood was hard and his elbow was hurting where it hit the entrance numerous times but finally to his relief the ancient door broke.

 

He burst inside only to face the nightmare of his life. An elleth was standing beside the stone pool with her back towards them. When she heard the door break she looked back at him over her shoulder. This minimal move gave Glorfindel the opportunity to see the struggling limbs cutting the water surface frantically struggling for life.

 

The lord of the Golden flower was fast. It only took him one second to know what was going on. He extended his arm and took a long stride towards the elleth. The first thing that came to his hand was her long blond hair and grabbing a fistful of it he pulled the girl away from the pool with force.

Being pulled with a great force the elleth stumbled and in mere seconds she slipped on the water soaked floor and fell, hitting her head on the stone pool in midway.

 

With the downwards weigh gone, Leuthil’s head immediately dashed out of the water as she gasped for air noisily.

 

 Glorfindel watched helplessly as the unknown assailant cracked her skull and fell lifeless on the slippery floor as if she never existed, her unfocused eyes watching his boots with no life in them. A second later crimson blood streamed under her face from where the side of her head had been split.

 

Knowing the assaulter was dead Glorfindel turned the other way only to find that in these seconds Liadan had managed to pull her lady out of the pool. The queen coughed out water and her body shook with fear and pressure.

Unable to look away Glorfindel’s eyes roamed over her to check for any instant injuries. She was still naked and water soaked with her wet hair sticking on her body. Along with his frantic search for immediate wounds the lord found himself contemplating on the beauty of the pregnant elven queen. His thoughts were made short when Liadan covered her lady with a huge towel to save at least the remaining of her dignity from Glorfindel’s prying eyes.

 

The lord sighed in relief while his heart still threatened to burst out of his chest. All three of them were panting with horror. If he had reached there seconds later they would have been carrying another corpse out of this room. The thought made him shiver.

In that moment the queen looked up at him; eyes wide with fear and shock. Her gaze then darted on the dead body in the corner that was now drowning in crimson blood and then back on him again. As he stared at the elleth’s blue orbs all Glorfindel could do was thank the Valar for not allowing this assailant close those eyes forever.

 

***

 

The healers and the maids around the bed on which the queen was resting jumped out of the way for their lives as the king stormed inside the healer’s wing of the palace.

 

Thranduil was like a tornado, burning everything in his anger. Everyone who had been in his way from his study to the healer’s wing had been the subject of his wrath.

He felt nausea from stress and it was as if his mind was not responding properly. He couldn’t digest what had happened and what could have happened if fate had not been on their side.

 

After almost breaking the door of the healer’s wing the king rushed to the bed where Leuthil was and swept her in his embrace. Feeling his strong arms around her she suddenly broke into long suppressed tears of fear. Thranduil pressed her more to himself and caressed her back soothingly. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest and the warmth coming from her trembling body assured him that miraculously he had not lost her. Several times he kissed her head before parting slightly so that he could see her face.

 

“Are you alright my dear?!” he said tenderly as he caressed a strand of hair out of her tear soaked face.

 

“I’m fine, I’m just scared…” she sobbed. “The baby’s alright as well…”

 

When Thranduil was assured of his wife’s and unborn baby’s wellbeing his concern was replaced with unleashed rage. They had tried to kill _his_ wife in _his_ palace, and this was unacceptable. His piercing gaze found Liadan as he stood and towered over the trembling elleth.

 

“I told you a thousand times not to leave her side…” he yelled making the maid flinch from his loud voice. “What is the meaning of this? What were you thinking with that little head of yours?”

 

Liadan could only drop her head and weep silently as she stepped away from the king as much as she dared. Her tiny form shivered like autumn leaves in the storm wrath of the king.

Thranduil was done yelling and he gazed daggers at her while he breathed heavily. She found that tolerating his screams war much easier than his piercing gaze.

 

“Perhaps I should relieve you of your duty!” the king said in a dangerously calm tone.

 

It was enough for the maid to fall on her knees and cling to Thranduil’s robe. Liadan had been a simple servant in the palace but from the day Thranduil had assigned her to take care of the queen she had dedicated her life to her. She loved her lady. She would give her life for her. Being separated from the queen meant death.

 

“My king, please, please don’t do this!” she cried.

 

“Thranduil it’s not her fault. “The queen’s sharp voice snapped the king out of his rage. He glanced at her and then looked back at the miserable elleth at his feet who was crying as if she was sentenced to death.

 

“Get up!” he growled as he grabbed the maid’s elbow and pulled him up. “If you ever leave her side again, you’ll not see the light of another day!”

 

Liadan could only nod her understanding before the king released her arm. She then retreated to a corner of the room where she kept crying in silence.

 

Thranduil again sat with his queen and helped the healers give her some soothing tea. It was amazing how fast the potion made her relax and soon her eyes lost focus and she sank deep into a much needed reverie.

 

The king sat beside Leuthil for a long time after she fell asleep. As he watched her dark wet lashes and her pale face his mind was somewhere else. He had made a mistake in letting her stay in the palace that was less protected these days because of the chaos of the move. His own selfishness and weakness had almost brought him to the brink of losing his beloved. A great fear settled in the king’s heart. Miraculously they had been lucky enough to stop the assassination on Gador, Aleth and now Leuthil. His enemies were becoming bolder and the horrible feeling that they had a traitor among them stung the king like a deadly snake. Their dependency on luck and good fortune made him sick as he remembered how Glorfindel might have easily been seconds late.

 

By the mention of the lord in his thoughts the king’s mind wandered in another route. He did not know why Glorfindel had been on that wing of the palace but it did not matter now. He had saved his wife and Thranduil was thankful for it. He had to admit that the fact that Leuthil had been in the bath and probably the lord had seen him naked and venerable like that did indeed boil his possessive blood but he pushed the thought away. His possessiveness had no right to come out while Leuthil’s life was concerned.  

 

He glanced at the sleeping figure of his wife one more time and absentmindedly fussed a bit with the blankets covering her. Then he rose to his feet. His gaze found the miserable elleth still crying in the corner and his heart broke. He had been too harsh with the poor maid. The king walked closer to Liadan. She shifted uncomfortably as she clearly thought Thranduil wanted to scold her again but the king placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with swollen eyes.

 

“Don’t take your eyes off her…” the king said tenderly.

 

“I won’t my king…” she whispered.

 

Thranduil smiled, silently apologizing with his eyes for his harsh behavior, hoping that the elleth would understand his situation. Then he strode out of the healing chamber.

Once out he spotted Glorfindel walking up and down the corridor anxiously. When the lord saw Thranduil he immediately walked to him and bowed his head slightly.

“My king…” he said. “How is the queen?”

 

“She’ll be fine…” Thranduil said as he scanned Glorfindel.

 

The lord felt a bit uncomfortable under Thranduil’s intense gaze but he wasn’t one to be outdone by piercing eyes.

 

“First you find my sister’s assailants …then you save my wife’s life” the king finally said. “…my debt to you is becoming deep.”

 

“You have no debt to me king Thranduil.” Glorfindel smiled. “It was mere luck that I got lost in your corridors and ended up there!”

 

“The queen is my life…” Thranduil sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “Luck or not…I am forever in debt to you.”

 

Their conversation was cut short as both ellons looked up to see Galdor approach.

“My king…” he bowed his head for Thranduil before turning to Glorfindel and nodding.

 

“Anything?” Thranduil asked.

 

“We inspected the corpse…” Galdor explained. “It seems that neither this elleth nor her master had been professional assassins before!”

 

“What do you mean?” the king asked puzzled.

 

Galdor took out a small piece of parchment and handed it to Thranduil. “We found this in her garment.”

 

Thranduil unfolded the paper. His eyes roamed up and down the parchment. There were runes in a language he could not read. He could recognize it was some kind of elvish but he couldn’t understand it. Being a Sindar from a noble family, Thradnuil had learned all the Elvish dialects from a young age so it was strange for him that he was unable to recognize these letters, much less understand them.

 

“What is this language?” he asked, looking up at Galdor.

 

“A very ancient Silvan!” Galdor smirked bitterly. “It was spoken a long time ago in the southern tribes but was discontinued even before your father came to this land.”

 

Thranduil’s eyebrows shoot up and he looked back at the runes again. They were twisted and strange and somehow they made the hair behind his neck stand up. “Then what use is this if we can’t read it?”

 

“You forget that I’m a Silvan, king Thranduil!” Galdor smirked again. “I can figure out some words.”

 

Thranduil watched hopefully as Galdor stood beside him and placed his finger on random words.

“ _Kill_ …” he said, pointing at a word. “ _Queen_ … _baby_ …” then he pointed on another word. “ _Reward_ …”

 

Thranduil furrowed his brow as Galdor finally placed his finger on what seemed to be a signature.

“I can read this entirely…” the steward said smugly. “ _Siavash, Lord of the Free South_ ”

 

Thranduil’s heart sank in his chest as he looked up at Galdor with wide eyes. He had little time to appreciate Galdor’s sharp memory with languages as he was deep in horror of how the south had turned against him. The king remembered a time, long ago, when he had played in Southernwood as a child whenever his father visited Siavash, the lord of that part of Greenwood. He remembered that the lord used to place him on his lap and give him sweets. He even recalled many times that Siavash sheltered him from his father’s scolding. How did thing change? Thranduil couldn’t believe that this ellon was the same person. He couldn’t believe that now they had become enemies. Time changed people; and this was the cruelest thing he had come to learn in his long life.

 

“Lord Glorfindel…” the king called after finding his voice. “I need to ask you for another favor.”

 

“I am at your service…” Glorfindel said firmly.

 

Thranduil turned completely towards the lord so that he could look him in the eye. “Gather the most trustable of your men…” the king said. “Take the queen and set out for the stronghold in an hour.”

 

Glorfindel’s face was hard and determined as he nodded gravely. He bowed his head and paced away with strong steps.

Thranduil followed him with his gaze. He knew Leuthil would be in good hands if she travelled with Glorfindel and his company but some dark unknown horror had settled in his heart. Siavash had crossed all the boundaries. And when it came to his loved one’s the king’s mercy was limited. He had tried to be liberal with them but now he had to talk in their own language.

 

“Galdor…” he called without taking his eyes off the retreating form of Glorfindel in the end of the corridor. “Find Erhan, bring him to my study fast…”

 

***

 

 

It was almost afternoon when after a hectic morning Thranduil was standing in his study and gazing out of the window. His eyes were fixed upon a carriage with red curtains that was going to be pulled by a single black horse. This was the carriage assigned for the women of his household. It always took them around if they needed to go outside the palace, everyone knew this. As he watched three mounted guards positioned themselves around it and the small caravan started its journey towards the stronghold.

 

Their goodbye had been brief and rushed. But at least their words of love and promises of reunion in the fortress were passed alongside the queen’s tears. Her parting had made a whole in the king’s chest and Thranduil felt sick from concern. Even the potent wine no longer soothed his worries.

He heard the door to his study open and close. He didn’t have to turn to know that it was Galdor as the steward walked closer silently and stood beside him, gazing out of the window. They both watched as the carriage and three guards disappeared in the woods.

 

“I made sure the mounts are ready when they come out of the tunnels.” Galdor said after a long while. Thranduil nodded before he felt the stewards gentle assuring hand rest on his shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

 

Thranduil said nothing but only drained his cup of wine. Galdor watched him worriedly. His friend’s dependence on alcohol was getting too much. The knock on the door however did not allow him to think much on the matter. They both turned as Erhan entered and closed the door behind him. He stood before the desk and bowed.

 

“You had asked for me my king.” He said politely.

 

Thranduil nodded as he placed his cup on the desk and walked closer to his young guard. His eyes scanned the ellon as if judging if he was suitable for the job he wanted to assign to him.

If Erhan felt any discomfort from that intense gaze he didn’t show it. His face was a black mask of patience as he waited for his king to give orders.

 

“How far does your loyalty to me extend?” Thranduil finally asked.

 

Erhan noted how Galdor shifted behind the king. He knew the steward was jealous of him for becoming closer to the king. He paid the king’s hand no heed.

“I would die for you…” he said firmly.

 

The corner of Thranduil’s lips curved in what could be called an attempt for a smile.

“You know Siavash, previous lord of Southernwood?” The king asked.

 

“Yes my king…” Erhand frowned and nodded.

 

“I have a massage for him…” The king explained. “Of course I understand if you do not wish to go; Southernwood is dangerous these days and you might even not come back alive!”

 

Erhand did not answer immediately. His eyes shifted on Galdor again. The steward was watching him with his furrowed brow. The guard’s gaze then returned to the king. Thranduil was determined but his gaze lacked any judgment. The king would not blame him if he refused. But Erhan was smart despite his youth and very brave while he truly was loyal to his king.

 

“I will deliver your message my king…” he said firmly. “Whatever it is!”

 

The worried look on Galdor’s face and the satisfied expression that passed the king’s features did not go unnoticed by the young ellon.

***

 

Miklovand cursed all the creatures on Arda for the failure of his plan as he remained hidden among the branched of an old oak like a panther ready to attack. His clothes were wet for how he had sweat in his fast run and climbing of the trees and it was pretty hard for him to even his breathing behind the mask he was wearing to cover his face. His dark eyes were fixed on the sight below the tree he was hidden in.

 

The red carriage stood under the tree. He had known this carriage for a long time. Of course it was not the same device but he remembered queen Harma travelling in a carriage just like this one. By remembering the queen mother who always treated him as her own son his heart stirred in his chest but he pushed the thought away. He needed to do this dirty job on his own and for doing so he needed concentration not sentiments of old. The captain did not really care about hurting Thranduil’s wife but this was the only chance he had to stop that child to be born and destroy his future as a king. Miklovand knew himself well. He knew that if this child would be born he would not have the heart to kill it then. As much as he wanted his rightful place on the throne he couldn’t kill an innocent little baby for it. It was best that he would stop him before he opened his eyes to this world.

 

As he observed to his luck the guards were rather scattered. One was standing beside the river, probably contemplating on where he could fill his water skin as the river’s current was rather fast due to summer storms and might even take him away with it if he was to fall. The other sentry had settled himself beside a tree and was taking a nap. To Miklovand’s delight he had placed his cloak on his head to cover his face from the sun. This would give the captain more time to act. The third sentry was a little further from the other two and he was tending to the horses while whistling an old tune.

 

Miklovand smirked to himself. These were _the_ _royal guards_ , assigned to protect the most cherished queen. No matter how much they were trained they were the same lazy and carefree Silvan. The captain judged the situation on his side. He had to act fast or he might never find the right opportunity to do this. He took in a deep breath as he fixed the scarf on his face to cover his identity. He then took out his sword and started descending from the tree noiselessly.

 

When his feet touched the forest floor he looked up at the sentry who was sleeping. He didn’t seem to have heard him above his loud snores and the other one had his back on him still looking at the river. Just then to Miklovand’s surprise the other one bent down to examine the water current. The captain couldn’t wish for something better than this. In a moment he decided and started running towards the guard’s back. There was no time for the sentry to turn when he finally heard Miklovand’s approaching footsteps as the captain hit him hard and pushed him with all his weigh into the fast current of the river.

 

It was the sentry’s cry of shock and horror that alerted the other two but Miklovand was already ready. It took a few seconds for the one taking a nap to uncover his face as his cloak was tangled on his head. This gave Miklovand enough time to approach him fast and before the sentry could even register what had happened he was lifted to his feet by the captain’s great force and then he was thrown towards the river. Miklovand was strong but his strength was not enough to send the sentry into the river and he could hear the third taking out his sword and approaching.

 

Fortunately for him the second guard had hit his head on a branch and was feeling dizzy. Just as he balanced himself on his kneed he was met with Miklovand’s foot hitting him right in the face. The sentry fell to the forest floor unconscious after the deadly blow.

 

Miklovand was a great warrior. Despite what everybody thought, he had gained his place as the captain of the royal guard with effort and much training. After all he was the only opponent Thranduil was threatened from in the contests all those years ago. He turned on his heel to face the last sentry feeling more confident than ever. He had prayed that the guard would not be wise enough to take the queen and run and his prayers were answered. The stupid guard launched towards him with his sword raised high above his head. Instead of guarding the carriage he ran towards the captain as he cried out.

 

Miklovand easily dodged the sentry’s sword as it was swung clumsily. For a mere second he thought why Thranduil had sent such novice guards with the queen whom he claimed to love so much. He didn’t let the sentry bring his arm up again as he caught his wrist and twisted his arm. The guard cried out in pain and then he screamed in pure agony when Miklovand broke his hand. The captain pushed the ellon away and started approaching the carriage while the guard rolled on the forest floor and cried loudly. Now that the obstcles were cared for he focused his attention on his main target. But doing so was more easily said than done. The captain’s heart was beating fast against his chest and his ears were whistling. He was about to become a kinslayer and this fact was making him hesitate. He soothed his conscious. This was for the greater good. He had to become king so that he could undo the damage Thranduil had done to his homeland; so that he could make Greenwood whole again. Although not by blood but by mental bond, he was Oropher’s rightful son which would make him the rightful king and owner of the land that belonged to his father. Thus Thranduil’s child could not be born…this needed to be done.

 

The captain found himself in front of the carriage. Nothing could stop him now. He took in a deep damp breath from behind the cloth that was covering his face. Pushing the voice of his conscious to the back of his mind he held his sword firmer while holding it high and with his free hand he opened the door of the carriage ready to strike his weapon in the queen’s heart at the moment he saw her.

 

The door of the carriage snapped open with his force though the queen was not inside to be killed.

 

Miklovand’s heart sank in his chest. The carriage was empty. The thought passed his mind that perhaps hearing the quarrel the queen had exited and ran in the forest. But no. all the while he was fighting off the sentries he had kept his eyes on the damn thing. No-one came out of it. The queen could not have moved fast with his swollen belly and Miklovand knew he would not have missed her sight.

 

His mind was blank with panic and his trembling hands searched the small carriage as if he did not believe his own eyes. This could not be. He had surveyed. He had asked. And he knew the information given to him were precise. _‘The queen would leave in her carriage, accompanied by three guards.’_ Even the lords of the council had argued with Thranduil about the haste of this decision. He had even seen Thranduil talk to the queen who had been sitting in the carriage, hidden from eyes.

 

Absentmindedly his gaze turned towards the sentry who was still twisting on the forest floor from pain. Something was not right and the captain was getting crazy. With long strides he reached the guard and with a hold on his collar Miklovand straightened the ellon.

 

“Where is the queen?!” he barked from behind the cloth, eyes dark with rage as he pressed his sword to the guard’s throat.

 

“The queen?!” the sentry stammered confusedly. “We are merely taking the royal carriage to the stronghold…she is not with us!”

 

There was no lie in the ellon’s eyes, only fear for his life for he eyed the sharp sword threatening to cut his throat. Miklovand’s heart missed a beat as he shoved the moaning ellon away. He had been tricked; outdone by Thranduil’s wits again.

 

_“Thranduil you bastard!”_ he screamed, his voice echoing in the forest.

 

***

 

The long walk through dense underground tunnels had been exhausting and terrifying in its own way and Leuthil was thankful that they were finally above the ground again. Once again she marveled at the efficiency of Galdor. The horses were already ready and waiting for their arrival. Just as the queen, Glorfindel and the five other guards had exited the secret tunnels they found two of the steward’s sentries awaiting them as programmed. They had mounted the stallions almost immediately, setting out for the stronghold fast to use the light as much as possible so that they could get further from the capital. The queen had never thought that her husband’s palace that had been her safe house for so many years would become so insecure in mere seconds.

 

Hours had passed since leaving the Greenwood sentries behind and she was now riding circled by Imladrian troops. Their journey had been so rushed and stressed that almost no word had been spoken among them except Glorfindel’s orders to the guards. Now that everything seemed calmer Leuthil was feeling emotions other than fear and excitement; such as sorrow.

Glorfindel led his horse closer, riding beside her. He contemplated on her face for a few seconds before handing some berries to her.

 

“You must be hungry my lady…” he said with a smile.

 

Indeed she was hungry. The hurried departure had not left any time for eating. She took the berries and ate them one by one.

 

“Do you think the carriage was attacked?” she asked voicing her thoughts.

 

“I don’t know!” Glorfindel shrugged. “But after all it was a shrewd idea to distract potential attackers.”

 

Leuthil nodded and fell silent again. Thranduil had indeed been perceptive and smart in coming up with this idea to distract potential threats.

The lord watched her beautiful face. The anxiety had twisted her features and Glorfindel had to admit that he was even worried about the baby.

 

“What ails you my lady?” he asked tenderly, searching her blue eyes for answers.

 

“Amon Lanc was my home for as long as I can remember…I never thought I’d be forced to run away from it.” the queen said mournfully. “I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye…”

 

Glorfindel didn’t know what to say to sooth her. Leaving one’s home was a horrible affair. But as much as the lord hated to admit, if he was in Thranduil’s place he would have also moved his people to a safer place.

 

“You are also a long distance from home…” Leuthil’s gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You must miss Imladris.”

 

“I do miss the valley…” Glorfindel nodded. “But I admit I have come to enjoy Greenwood and all its drama. Imladris is too protected and calm for my liking!”

 

Leuthil chuckled at the last comment before posing another more personal question that had been lingering on her mind for some time.

“Is there not an elleth waiting for you there?!” she asked innocently.

 

While the queen expected Glorfindel to blush she was surprised to see him lose all the color of his face. He dropped his gaze and instead of looking at her he kept his eyes on the road.

 

“I’m sorry…” Leuthil said tenderly. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

 

A heavy silence lingered between them for a long while. The queen cursed herself for being nosy while the lord was thinking if he should explain or not. Finally Glorfindel decided that he was making Leuhtil uncomfortable with his silence and lack of explanation.

 

“I loved her…” he started. “But I learned that she didn’t return my affections.”

 

The queen nodded with an understanding look. Feeling more comfortable to ask questions she pointed at the brooch on the lord’s chest.

“Did she give that to you…?”

 

Glorfindel nodded as he touched the golden brooch. “Just a friendly gift; that’s what she said!” he smiled bitterly. “I was reluctant to come to Greenwood but Elrond thought it would help me heal. He was right as always!”

 

“This is the way the world works…One must be very lucky to find his true love and start a life.” the queen said, smiling at the last comment. “Those who love you, you don’t love them back. Those you love do not return your affections. And if by chance you fall in love with someone and your one returns your emotions; by the law of fate you fall apart somehow!”

 

“Which type are you?” Glorfindel asked mischievously and winked.

 

Leuthil gazed at him for a while as if thinking on how to answer his not too innocent question.

“I’m one of the lucky ones!” she said smugly. Then she made a sound for her mount to go faster and passed the lord to ride in the front.

 

Glorfindel sighed and shook his head with a smile. The matters of the heart were indeed confusing and hard to handle, even for someone as old as him.

 

***

 

From the first day he had come to this palace as its prince he had hated his father’s study that was later given to him to use when he became king. Even in all those years he had worked in that chamber day and night he had never come to like the room, he merely became used to it. But now that he had to leave, the king found himself attached to the chamber from which he had too many memories.

 

Three weeks had passed since a messenger had arrived to bring him news of Leuthil’s safe arrival in the stronghold. He had also received the guards who were attacked beside the carriage he had sent to distract the potential assailants. The news had been both disturbing and reliving. Now after years of hardship and effort the entire realm had been moved. The villages that were once the home of his subjects were deserted and his capital was empty of any residents. The Silvan were already starting their new life in the north; except the southerners.

 

The palace was empty as well. It was decided that no furniture would be taken because they were hard to carry in the forest. Everything would remain in the palace where they would rot and rust in time. Thranduil shivered by the thought. If these desks and chairs and torches could speak; they would curse him for leaving them behind. Now that there was almost no-one left here, long suppressed doubt crept into the king’s heart. His subjects had probably felt what he was feeling now when they had to abandon their houses. It was like cutting off an organ from his body.

 

The grey light before dawn was enough for Thranduil to see the remaining of his belongings. His shelves where emptied from the law books and scrolls and his wine bottles and goblets were taken away. On his desk the king always kept a quill made of a feather of a hawk with which he wrote. He had insisted on keeping it and it was packed on his stallion. His desk now lay naked except for the wooden horse resting atop it. The toy was made by his father long ago, to make his ellfling happy in dire times of war and homelessness. While his child had seen too much bloodshed and terror for his age, Oropher had tried to bring back the normal joys of a normal elfling to Thranduil. Later this horse had become a symbol of hope for him; hope that perhaps someplace deep in his heart Thranduil’s father had cherished him.

 

While dying in his son’s arms in the pits of Mordor, Oropher had said all that Thranduil had wanted to hear from him throughout his life. He had said that he was proud of his son, and that he loved him. Thranduil had tried to console himself with it but he knew that deep inside he never believed his father’s words. It was instilled in his mind that he had failed in making his father proud and that he never held his affection. Now that the king stood in his father’s study; naked of any form of life, he doubted again if his decision had been wise…or if he was taking his people to another failure.

 

 

 

Galdor slowly opened the door to Thranduil’s study. No one remained in the capital except Holgailion, Alheru, Thranduil and himself. The lords were all ready, waiting to leave. Galdor had come to fetch his king who seemed deep in his own grief. His own heart was heavy with sorrow for leaving what he had called home for almost his entire life but he knew Thranduil must feel worse since this was indeed his decision.

 

“We are ready Thranduil…” he said softly as not to startle the king who seemed to not have sensed his presence.

 

Thranduil nodded but did not turn to acknowledge the steward further while he absentmindedly touched the wooden horse on his desk.

 

Galdor sighed and walked closer standing beside his king. His eyes observed Thranduil for a long time and the king seemed not to mind his intense gaze. Galdor noted that Thranduil had become thin. There were dark circles under his eyes and deep hollows under his cheekbones; making him look ill.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor whispered as he gently touched the king’s shoulder. The Sindar closed his eyes by the touch as if he was snapped back to reality.

 

“Do you think... that it will be too childish if I take that toy with me…?” Thranduil asked uncharacteristically shy.

 

“No…” Galdor whispered simply and watched as his friend grabbed the wooden horse and pressed it to his chest possessively.

 

Galdor knew how much Thranduil needed support. He felt the doubt that was eating him inside. So slowly he ran his hand down Thranduil’s arm and took his cold hand in his. Perhaps the last time they had held hands like this was when they were still elflings. Becoming adults had made them self-conscious of their touches. But now was different. They were two friends being pushed away from their home and they needed each other’s support. Galdor then gently pulled Thranduil by his hand leading him towards the door.

 

“Come my friend…” he whispered encouragingly.

 

They took their time walking to the courtyard. The corridors were dark as no fire burned in the torches and despite summer the palace seemed cold. The walls that had once echoed laughter and music were silent, as if not believing their departure. They descended the stairs leading to the gate. These wide staircases were their playground for many years and as elflings and they had made many great lords fall from them by making them slippery by soups.

 

As Thranduil and Galdor arrived in the courtyard Alheru handed the rein of Thranduil’s huge black stallion to him. The horse was restless pulling his head and neighing as if sensing the evil lurking closer to the capital, becoming bolder because of the elves’ departure. Thranduil caressed his nose to calm him.

“You seem so eager to leave…” he whispered to his mount.

 

Alheru walked closer and held the stalion’s rein for Thranduil to mount. Sensing the king’s reluctance he tapped his son-in-law on the shoulder.

“Let’s go Thranduil…” he said smiling. He glanced at the palace and then back to Thranduil who was watching him with sorrowful eyes. “Amon Lanc lives in the past…” the lord said smiling. “The future waits for us in the great stronghold; the safe halls of the Elvenking.”

 

A tingle of warmth started spreading in Thranduil’s heart and he mounted his stallion. His companion’s the same. With one last glance at the desolation that had once been his warm home the king turned his horse and started riding away; the lords following him. He was bothered by the thought that in a few years’ time no trace would remain that elves ever lived here. In time no-one would remember that once there was a civilization here; people lived, elflings were born and tales were weaved. But the king of Greenwood knew that if they went back in history, which they certainly would, they would not think of him as a coward monarch who left his land to evil, but they would say that he was a king who chose the lives of his people over the vastness of his realm.

 

***

 

With a gasp lord Siavash woke up from agitated dreams and sat on his bed. His body was sticky with sweat and his heart was pounding hard against his chest. Feeling restless he sat in his bed. Life had become hard in Southernwood because of Thranduil’s prohibitions, and as the leader of the rebellion he found himself restless. Even his dreams were haunted.

 

This last business with that strange elleth had also made him anxious. Malin had turned up in his village some months ago after they had been excluded by the king. She had offered money and advice. She also had many connections in the neighbor realm of the men which was a great way to obtain food and weapons and she seemed to have a very reliable spy in the palace, making it difficult for Siavash to decline her help. For some reason she wanted revenge on Thranduil and thus their goals were the same. Siavash had gathered many loyal people around himself during this time. Malin had offered money, information and weapons in exchange of help to precede her plans.

 

The elleth Siavash had sent for the assassination was very loyal. She had gone to the palace among the southerner refugees and had become a servant in the palace. Siavash was sure she would not betray him and that she would not fail in her task. When this was done Malin had promised to obtain some essential food from the men. Food had been one of the main reasons that some of the elves had turned from Siavash and a great weigh would be taken from his shoulders if the matter was solved.

 

Taking a deep breath the lord sighed and felt a bit calmer. Suddenly he remembered the night before and a smile shaped on his lips. Siavash’s wife had died many years before in some orc attack and despite how he loved and missed her, the ellon had become lonely. Meanwhile the hardship of Southernwood had led many of the widows towards breaking the laws and selling their bodies. Sharar was one of them. She was widowed years ago and she lived on the money she gained from selling crops to the capital. When trade had been cut off she no longer even had the money to by seeds and so she had changed her job to a dirtier one when lord Siavash had taken interest in her. The blond beauty had warmed his bed many nights and had become his nightly companion.

 

Forgetting his sorrows he turned to hold the elleth whom he thought was probably resting beside him, only to find himself alone in the bed. Confused, Siavash turned to look for her.

 

The light of dawn was enough for him to see the horrifying scene before him and instinctively the lord cried in terror.

The blond elleth was tied to a chair in front of the bed. The ropes held her naked body tight to the seat. There was a cloth in her mouth to silent her and her head was sloped back to expose the deep open cut on her throat that was still pouring out blood. The fact that the elleth was dead was a secondary worry to the lord. The main horror was that the elleth had been pulled from her side, gagged, tied and killed in his room in such silence that he had not even noticed. Siavash shivered by realizing that easily he could have been in the Sharar’s place.  

 

The tremors of his horror and shock had not completely passed when a shadow crept from behind the door of his room. He could not see him clearly but he could tell that it was a tall ellon with his sword in hand.

 

“Who are you?!” Siavash almost screamed trying to shift himself away from the assassin who was walking closer.

 

The ellon walked into the faint light of the morning. Siavash recognized the green uniform of the royal guard. The ellon lifted his sword making Siavash gasp and flinch further. Patiently the young elf picked the edge of the bed sheets and wiped the blood from his sword as if it was nothing more than dirt.

 

“Next time you scheme to hurt anyone…” the elf told the petrified lord. “ _You_ will be the one sitting on that chair.”

 

Taking his time the ellon placed back his sword in its sheath.  Siavash watched in pure horror as the ellon walked to the door, but before leaving the elf turned again making the lord moan from fear.

 

“Oh and…” the Erhan started with a smile. “King Thranduil sends his regards.”

 

Siavash could barely breathe from terror as he watched the ellon walk out of his room and disappear in the corridors.

 

 

 

 


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank all those who are still reading, and specially those who take the time to comment. I love you :*

Life in the stronghold was indeed different from Amon Lanc. This fortress was not the underground caves many had assumed; it was a glorious kingdom deep in the heart of a massive rocky mountains. Telov and Hazar who had been the head architects of this masterpiece where both Silvan and so despite being underground and away from the green of the forest the stronghold was match with Silvan taste. Many underground roads and corridors were made of wood and plants had been grown everywhere. Rivers ran inside the mountain and small waterfalls connected the levels of the city. Many of the villagers who had once wanted to live in the villages around the fortress had changed their minds and had moved into the stronghold. The fortress was illuminated by natural light in the morning because of the holes in the walls and at nights it was lightened by elvish lights. The architects had even managed to carve windows and balconies on the northern side of the caves. Word had reached different realms of king Thranduil’s new settlement and its magnificence. Letters arrived every day containing the congratulations of various realms. Whispers of those halls reached all ears in Middle Earth. They all said the Elvenking’s stronghold was a reminder of Menegroth.

 

The first days had indeed made Thranduil a bit claustrophobic but only within a week he had become accustomed to it. There were still many undone places in his stronghold and Thranduil knew there shall always be undone sections in such a massive project but the fortress was more than ready to take residence even according to his kingly standards. He had most of all enjoyed his throne, carved out of wood in the shape of twisted antlers of a stag and it didn’t poke his back like his previous throne used to. His shared chamber with Leuthil also had a great view towards the north which made them forget they were indeed living in a series of massive caves. Behind the door of this very chamber was where he had been pacing back and forth in anxiety since morning.

 

The discomfort of pregnancy had taken its toll on Leuthil and the night before she had fallen asleep on her side while Thranduil robbed her aching back soothingly. The king had stayed awake for a long while, watching over her. But before the first rays of the morning sun had appeared in the horizon Thranduil had also fallen asleep beside her due to the fatigue that had become his silent companion for many months. He had only slept less than an hour when he had been startled from his reverie by his wife’s gasps of pain. It had taken him only seconds to realize that she was in labor. Fortunately he had fallen asleep with his tunic and leggings and even his boots which gave him time to call the healers immediately. That wing of the palace that only seconds ago was deep in sleep suddenly became a chaos as female healers rushed into the room and after a few seconds Aleth had arrived with her own swollen belly.

 

Thranduil had felt helpless standing there while the elleths gathered around the bed forming a wall of flesh, making it impossible for him to see his moaning wife. Then he had felt hands on his chest gently pushing him out of the room. “Go, Thranduil…you should not be here.” Aleth had said as she had finally managed to push him outside. Then the wooden doors were shut separating him from Leuthil.

 

He cursed the customs every time a sharp scream found its way out of the door and through the walls. He didn’t know who had written the twisted traditions that no ellon was allowed in the labor room but he cursed them none the less. It made his stomach twist and his breath hitch each time he heard Leuthil’s cries of pain. He hoped the Valar would give Galdor anything he desired for he arrived only minutes after Thranduil was left alone outside the chamber. The king knew he would’ve gone mad if his friend had not come.

 

At that moment that the steward arrived Thranduil looked like anything but the graceful king he was. His hair was standing in an unruly manner around his face for he had clawed it many times and lines of red were visible on his cheeks since he had scratched them instinctively from stress.

 

After hours the steward had given up in trying to calm the king and was now leaning on one of the pillars. The morning was turning to midday now and yet there was no end to their suffering.

To Galdor’s relief Alheru finally appeared from the end of the corridor with a flushed face since he had ran all the way up to this level of the fortress.

The steward merely shook his head in answer to Alheru’s acquiring look. The lord then observed Thranduil. The king was almost on the brink of losing his mind.

 

“Why is it taking so long?!” Thranduil almost sobbed like a child when he saw Alheru.

 

Despite his own concern for his daughter the lord smiled and robbed the king’s shoulder.

“She’ll be fine…” Alheru said. “We need to trust elleths in this single affair.”

 

When the queen’s sharp cry that was now clearly screaming Thranduil’s name startled them, the king lost what remained from his thin temper and started banging on the door frantically.

 

“Open this door NOW!!!” he yelled, but the healer’s in the chamber where too occupied to heed their king’s command.

 

There was another loud scream and then dead silence. A few breathless seconds passed before the cry of a baby was heard. Before Thranduil could break the door Aleth opened it with a smile.

 

“You are truly the most impatient father that has ever lived…” she teased with a smile. “They are both fine…the healers are cleaning up, just give them a minute.”

 

Thranduil released a breath he had been holding for hours. He had never found himself so helpless in any matter. The waves of relief that washed over him were almost overwhelming.

Aleth smiled at Alheru whose calm façade had fallen and looked truly relieved and then she watched her brother who looked as if he had returned from war. She didn’t know if she was supposed to tell him the news or not but she couldn’t hold it.

 

“The Valar have blessed you with a healthy daughter…” she said smiling.

 

All eyes turned to Thranduil who was standing there dumbfounded with a slack jaw that threatened to touch the ground. Knowing Oropher, Alheru was worried for Thranduil’s reaction to a daughter. Oropher never placed any differences between his children. And in fact he showed his love much more towards his daughter than his son; but he always had a great emphasis on having a son to continue his line. Alheru had feared that the king might not welcome a daughter and might even blame Leuthil for not bringing him an heir. To his surprise though his concern was misplaced as Thranduil looked as if he would faint from joy. His eyes glittered with pure happiness and his tongue was tied from the extremity of his emotions.

 

“I have a _daughter_?” he finally gasped as if he thought they were teasing him.

 

Aleth nodded her smile widening. To everyone’s surprise Thranduil started laughing as if he had finally lost his mind. The king had never wanted to make Leuthil nervous but he had always wished for a daughter despite all the expectations he received from his subjects. He never said it out loud and he knew he would have cherished a son just as much as a girl but deep inside the king always wished for his child to be a girl so that he could spoil her.

 

The crack of the door opening made them all look up and the healer maiden who looked as if she had climbed a high mountain appeared with a faint smile. “You may come in my king.”

 

Thranduil had not known his knees were shaking so much until he forced himself to move. He let out a silent sigh when he saw the scene before him. His beloved queen was sitting on the bed. They had probably helped her change into a clean white gown and the spoiled sheets of the bed were changed. In her arms was a bundle of blankets that was probably his child. Leuthil looked up from her daughter when she heard them enter the room and she smiled at him despite her exhaustion. Thranduil walked to her and sat beside her on the bed, gasping when he finally saw the little thing wrapped inside the layers.

 

“It’s a girl…” she whispered to him and to that Thranduil only grinned wildly which made the queen chuckle. She was really starting to think her husband truly did not wish for an heir.

 

Slowly and with great care the king took the baby from her arms. With all those blankets around her tiny form she was strangely light in his arms. Her little face was puffy and red as if she had pushed hard for coming out of her mother’s womb. With her eyes closed and her saliva drooling down she was deep in a comfortable sleep as if there was no place safer than the arms of her father. Not succeeding to control himself, Thranduil leaned and kissed her little forehead making the baby writhe weakly in her reverie which made him chuckle and before he knew it his tears of joy ran down his cheeks.

 

“She’s going to make you climb the lonely mountain!” Galdor teased, making everyone in the room laugh.

 

“Isn’t she beautiful!?” Thranduil asked in a daze. All eyes went to the little creature than was a mixture of bruises and puffs.

 

“She might become beautiful some day!” Alheru said teasingly. “But now she’s just beautiful in the eyes of her father…”

 

Thranduil didn’t care what they said, he knew that his little baby was the most beautiful being in the world and anybody who thought otherwise was merely too blind to see.

 

“The entire realm is here …” Galdor reminded. “Shall I deliver the news or do you want to do it yourself”

 

“Tell them yourself…” Thranduil said without raising his head as he sat somewhere where he could hold both his wife and daughter in his arms. “I wish to spend some time with my family.”

 

Galdor smiled at that and bowed before leaving. Alheru also smiled. His daughter seemed like the happiest elleth on Arda as she leaned on her husband’s shoulder comfortably.

 

***

 

When the queen finally fell asleep it was well into the heart of evening. Thranduil had finally left her side so as not to wake her, taking the baby with him. After a rushed supper everyone had gathered in a small living room that was adjoined with the royal bed chambers. Even Holgailion and Daitrid had joined the royal family to see the royal baby. Such joy and commotion was rare in the royal family but again it was not every day that a little girl was born.

 

There was a battle on who would hold the little princess next and for what seemed hours the baby was shifted from arm to arm sometimes with harsh quarrels when someone thought some kind of injustice had been done to him in holding the princess a second longer. The lords had finally caused the poor baby to cry from being moved so much and at last it was Aleth who saved her niece from the hands of the lords.

 

Now Aleth and Galdor were sitting around the living room with the lords who were sharing stories of old, feeling no reluctance in sharing awkward moments of Thranduil’s or Aleth’s childhood. Thranduil however paid them no heed as he was too occupied with his daughter to even listen to them. He walked around the chamber holding the little baby in his arms while he sang an old lullaby his mother used to sing for him. The tiny princess had fallen sound asleep in her father’s arms. The flood of emotions running in his veins was almost too much to bear. He had never thought that such love existed. He had never felt anything like this.  

 

There was a faint knock on the door and as the king raised his head he saw Miklovand enter the room panting. He had been on the patrol the whole day and hearing the news he had returned fast. Thranduil’s gaze tied with his and for some seconds they merely stared at each other while the room fell silent.

 

“I…I heard…” Miklovand finally stammered. His eyes glittered in what could be called pure emotion. Something Thranduil had never seen in his step-brother and yet he could confirm its truthfulness.

 

The air in the room seemed to become much lighter when Thranduil smiled tenderly to the captain. Miklovand gave him a trembling smile in return as he approached, gazing curiously at the baby wrapped in blankets. His heart started beating hard against his chest when the little girl opened her eyes, looking up at them with aquamarine orbs that were the copy of her father’s.

 

“She has your eyes…” Miklovand noted with a chuckle as he ran a tender finger on the soft skin of the baby’s face. Thranduil smiled at that and watched as his step-brother admired his daughter. “Have you picked a name for her yet?!” the captain asked without taking his eyes off the baby who was staring at him with wide astonished eyes.

 

“Negaar…” Thranduil said almost immediately.

 

Miklovand looked up at him contemplating on the meaning. “ _Beloved_ …” he whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

Again he looked back at the baby and continued his caressing. Now that luckily Thranduil’s child was a daughter he was relieved. This child would not be a threat to him. The captain was more than happy for not needing to hurt this innocent baby for his goals. In fact the little girl had already captured his heart as she looked up at him as if he was the most interesting thing in the world. Miklovand hated himself for trying to kill this baby and thanked the Valar a thousand times for blessing Thranduil with a daughter and not a son and for reliving him from the sin of killing the king’s heir.

 

“Do you want to hold her?” Thranduil asked.

 

Miklovand looked up with wide eyes; astonished by the king’s kindness. The suggestion had caught him off guard. With a shaky smile he nodded, not really believing what was happening when Thranduil slipped his little daughter into the captain’s arms with great care. His breath hitched when he felt the slight weigh of the baby in his arms. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest. The last time he had held a baby was when Aleth had been born and that was a very long time ago. He had been a ,ere adolescent himself. The sight of the child looking up at him evoked long forgotten emotions in him; love, adoration, purity and great protectiveness. He might have hated Thranduil, but this was also Oropher’s grandchild. Secretly Miklovand appreciated his luck for even if the king’s child had been a boy he wouldn’t have been able to put it out of the way.

 

“I wished father and the queen mother could have seen this…” the captain whispered only for Thranduil’s ears.

 

“I wished that too…” Thranduil nodded as he smiled at Aleth who with great difficulty stood from her place next to Galdor and walked to them. She played with the baby who seemed really content in Miklovand’s arms and then she leaned closer to her brother.

 

“Our children will grow up together…” she said fondly.

 

Thranduil smiled and circled his arm around the princess, bringing her close to him. She leaned her back on his chest and rested the back of her head on his shoulder. Thranduil kissed her head and sighed contently. It was only Miklovand who saw the saddened expression that passed the king’s features like a ghost, though he did not understand why.

 

***

 

Thranduil jumped out of his sleep with a start, hardly suppressing a loud gasp. His breath hitched from the heat of his own body. His insides were burning and yet his body was covered in a layer of cold sweat. He remembered his nightmare vividly. As always he was trapped in the marches of Mordor trying to reach his father and failing. Always it was some horrible memory of his past. The king ran his hand on his face and breathed deeply, trying to calm down and even his breathing. His lungs burned with each breath and he felt nauseous.

 

He turned around and checked on his sleeping wife and daughter. His lips curled into a smile and for a moment he forgot his ill state by the sight of their sleeping forms. Although a separate room had been readied for their baby Thranduil had insisted on keeping her in their own chamber and no matter how much the queen had reasoned with him he had argued that their bed was spacious enough for all three of them to fit in and that a three month old baby need not sleep in her own cradle. And so every night after she was born the little princess had slept between her parents and Thranduil predicted a day when Leuthil would be jealous of the attention he was showing to Negaar.

 

The king caressed the baby’s tiny head that was now covered with dark hair and then he leaned and placed a kiss on his wife’s shoulder. His hand flew to his mouth as that little movement almost made him vomit. As silently as he could he got out of bed and tip toed to the adjoined bathing chamber and gagged several times in the toilet but he didn’t vomit. The pressure brought tears to his eyes and his knees that were strangely weak gave in under him and he ended up sitting on the stone floor with his head leaning on the edge of the toilet. His breathing was labored and he trembled with weakness. These feelings had become normal for him in the past few months and he had to admit they were getting worse. Several times Galdor had insisted for him to see the healers although the steward had not known his symptoms. Galdor only saw his hollow cheeks and how he skipped the council meetings to rest in strange hours during the day. Thranduil had cleverly hidden the state of his body from Galdor and even the queen. He made an excuse from Leuthil’s exhaustion from pregnancy in order to avoid any sexual intercourse and thus getting naked. He even somehow managed not to take off his clothes in front of Galion. He feared their reaction if they saw him bare. However he was well aware of his own state. Almost no muscle was left on his body and his skin was literary plastered to his bones. Every single vertebra of his spine had popped out under his skin and his ribcage was sickeningly visible.

 

As he sat there passively his sickness gradually died down and Thranduil stood on his bare feet with difficulty only to find himself being swept into waves of vertigo. If his hand had not found the doorframe he knew he would have again ended up on the stone floor. With great struggle he managed to go back to the chamber and lie down on the bed. He was grateful that Leuthil had not woken up to find him in that state for he knew she would’ve called upon any living healer in Greenwood. He closed his eyes, his chest heaving with each breath. The king knew he had avoided healers far too long. He needed to face what was happening to him for the sake of his family if not for himself.

***

 

“Nightmares you say, your majesty…?” Hafez asked with his head on the king’s chest in order to listen to his heartbeat. Once morning had arrived Thranduil had sent Erhan to fetch the healer. Since the guard had returned from his mission alive and successful he had gained a special place in the king’s heart and whenever the king wished to do something without the notice of others he relied on his loyal sentry. That morning was no different and instead of letting Galdor or even his wife know about his state he had demanded that Erhan called upon the Hafez who had become one of the healers of the royal family since they had moved to the stronghold.

 

The healer had visited him in his study so that they could avoid Leuthil. He had examined the king for almost an hour. He had checked his pulse, examined his eyes and studied his horribly thin body. After listening to his lungs Hafez looked up at his king demanding an answer.

 

“Yes…I have so many nightmares I fear sleeping.” Thranduil admitted as he put his tunic back on.

 

The healer furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin, contemplating.

“What are these nightmares about?” he asked.

 

“My past…” Thranduil shrugged though he found the question strange. “They are nothing new, only the repetition of some events in my life I rather not remember.”

 

Hafez shook his head as if trying to deny the voices in his head and without a word started packing his things into the wooden box he had his supplies in. the king watched him with a demanding gaze but when it became clear for him that the healer was not going to talk he became impatient.

 

“What’s wrong with me…?” he demanded.

 

“I cannot say for sure your majesty…” Hafez said avoiding Thranduil’s gaze as he continued packing. The firm grip on his shoulder however did not leave any room for ignoring the king further. Thranduil had rose from his place and had the healers arm in his grip, looking at him with piercing eyes and features that had become sharper due to his loss of weigh.

 

“Be honest…” The king ordered sharply. “Tell me, what’s happing to me?”

 

The healer turned around to face Thranduil as the king released his arm. He sighed and for some seconds he merely looked around the chamber as if trying to find words that would hurt less. 

 

“I have seen these signs in many during my years as a healer…” he started carefully. “Loss of weigh, Vertigo, nausea, nightmares about their past, weakness, fatigue, a tendency to sleep and yet not finding any…I have seen it many times.” The ellon then looked straight in the king’s eyes. “These are the signs of Mandos’ call my king…All my patients faded after sometime…”

 

The bluntness of the healer’s words was a hard slap in the king’s face. As he was immortal Thranduil never really thought about death. It was a faraway concept for him and yet if he ever gave it a thought he had always wished to die fighting in a battlefield. He had seen how people faded from grief. The slow painful death was not something he had wished for; not that he wished for death at all. And now his mind was blank. He had a baby; he had hoped to spend years with his young family, those dreams could not just shatter into nothing. The shock was too much for his weakened body to react and the king merely reached for his chair to sit as he was no longer able to stand. The healer’s voice however snapped him out of his storming thoughts.

 

“However…my patients all had another symptom that you lack my king…” Hafez said firmly, sitting on one knee in front of Thranduil, hope visible in his eyes. “They were all suffering from extreme depression and hopelessness for different reasons…which you do not seem to have. This means that there might be another answer to this.”

 

No, Thranduil was not hopeless or depressed. Despite all the hardship he had endured in his life he was in a special period of his life where he was extremely happy. He had succeeded in moving his people to a safer place. His subjects were getting used to the new accommodation and had no complaint. His sister had gotten married to someone she loved and someone he trusted and above all the Valar had blessed him with a daughter. He had hope for her and his revived family and until this day he had had no plans for rushing into the arms of Mandos. The king could not fathom why this was happening to him.

 

“Then what is happening?” Thranduil asked in what was no more than a whisper.

 

“I do not know my king…” The healer shook his head. “But I will research with my team and let you know fast…Meanwhile I need you to stay strong and try to lead a healthy diet.”

 

Thranduil nodded at that. The healer smiled and picked his box bowing to the king. He walked to the door and almost bumped into Galdor who entered the room after a short knock.

 

The steward gave a court nod to the respected healer and followed his form with his eyes as Hafez exited the study. Then he looked back at Thranduil suspiciously. The king seemed to be in a trance as he was plunged on his chair, deep in thought.

 

“Does something ail you?” Galdor asked worriedly. “Why was the healer here?”

 

If Thranduil was good in one thing that was pretending everything was fine. In a blink of an eye he gathered his exhausted body and sat up straight and smiled at the steward. “No, I was acquiring information on how to deal with the strange fevers of a new born baby…”

 

For a few seconds Galdor eyed him doubtfully but then he judged his king honest and walked closer to the desk. “You had asked for me…”

 

“Yes…” Thranduil confirmed, thankful that Galdor had not pushed the issue. “I want you to set out north…I hear there is some ill spreading there, I need someone trusted to investigate the situation for me.”

 

“I will leave after Aleth gives birth to her baby…” Galdor nodded.

 

“I need you to go _now_!” the king’s firm voice cut him off.

 

Galdor frowned. Aleth’s childbirth would happen probably in a few days and the steward wanted to be there to support her. Moreover he wanted to assure her that her child was loved by him even if it was not his own baby. On the other hand Thranduil’s mission didn’t sound so urgent. He had also heard about the foul things happening in the north but it had been happening for a while. A few more days would not have made a difference.

 

“Can you not send Miklovand…?” Galdor asked softly. “Or any of the other lords…?”

 

“Miklovand is already on a patrol in the south… And the other lords have other duties…”Thranduil shook his head. “I cannot see why you are defying me…”

 

“I will never defy you…” Galdor denied. “I merely wish to be with Aleth when she goes into labor…she has suffered enough I wish to support him in this. If this can wait just a few days…”

 

“It cannot!” The king interrupted him for the second time with an expressionless face. “Aleth would be fine…the best healers are here, Leuthil is here, I am here…” Thranduil reasoned calmly and yet with a tone that made Galdor uncomfortable. “Beside you can’t even go into the room, there is nothing you can do…and it will only take a week or so, you will be back to be with her soon.”

 

Despite the fact that Galdor was not convinced he dared not argue further. It was strange for him that Thranduil did not pay any attention to his situation since normally the king was someone to understand special occasions. The steward could not help feeling heartbroken. But Thranduil was his king, and the king’s word was not to be defied even if he felt bad about it.

 

With a heavy heart he nodded and bowed to the king and slowly he walked to the door. His shoulders slumped with defeat.

Thranduil watched the steward walk out of the study and close the door behind him. He let out a shaky sigh.

 

***

 

Three months had passed since Negaar’s birth and from the first month she had been suffering from occasional fevers. The baby cried almost the entire time as if something ailed her that she could not express. Her huge aquamarine eyes grew wide and her tiny brow sweated from fever. Lowering her body’s temperature had been easy in the first month but as days passed by the baby became more and more restless. She wriggled in the hands of the maids and even her parents, screaming at the top of her lungs. When first the fevers had appeared the healers had said them to be normal for weak children of the Eldar. But after the failure of every method to stop it they were getting worried even though they tried to keep the king and the queen calm.

 

Knowing that her daughter suffered from something strange Thranduil had been restless as well. He had even injured his own pride and asked for healers to be brought from Lorien. At the last attempt he had written a letter to Lord Elrond, asking for his advice. The Lord had suggested checking the princess’ food for poison which had concerned the king to great extent. He had ordered three elves to test the princess’ food as well as the queen’s before they brought it to his study. Then the king would test the food himself before allowing it to be sent to his daughter and wife. Of course the food of the little one was nothing more than portions of water and watery soups. But even these preclusions had been to no avail.

 

The day that Liadan ran to her lady bringing the news that Aleth was in labor, Leuthil had been awake all night washing her child with cold water. She left the baby in the maid’s care and ran for Aleth’s chambers. She could hear her cries before even turning on the last corner and the queen wondered for the hundredth time why Thranduil had sent Galdor away in such circumstances.

 

The king was already standing outside the chamber when she arrived. He acknowledged her with a faint smile before she walked into the room fast.

 

Aleth’s child was making trouble. It had turned inside its mother’s womb and had no intention of coming out. The howls that found their way from the princess’ throat showed that she was in horrible pain and yet no matter how much the maids and healers tried they couldn’t help her. A few times the princess almost lost consciousness but they brought her back with splashing cold water to her face.

 

Finally the queen lost her patience after three hours of struggle and burst out of the room. Some of the male healers of the palace were more experienced in this matter and in such a time cultures no longer mattered. No one knew how much longer the princess could endure. As she opened the door with bloodied hands she sighed from relief since she saw Thranduil had been thinking about the same thing. Already he was walking down the corridor with three master healers on his heel. He gave her a worried smile as the healers entered the room that was a chaos with all the people inside. Leuthil turned to go back inside but she was stopped by her husband’s hand on her arm. She turned impatiently towards him.

 

“You need to go to Negaar…” he demanded.

 

“She fell asleep in the morning…” Leuthil explained. “Her fever had died down…”

 

“Hours have passed since morning…” Thranduil argued. “Liadan came, she was panicking. It seems that her fever is back.” Thranduil then spoke in a tone that left no place for arguments. “I am here; I’ve had enough of customs, I’ll stay with with my sister…go to our child.”

 

Before Leuthil could say anything he passed her and walked into the room. He turned and gave him an encouraging smile before closing the doors. The queen had no time to think as her child’s wellbeing became a priority. She ran through the corridors to their own quarters.

 

***

 

The pain was unbearable. The princess twisted in agony in the bed that was now covered with her own blood. She heard the conversations vaguely. With her blurred vision she had spotted her brother and some ellons entering the delivery room. The intensity of her pain did not allow her to argue about the reason. If they could end this agony and keep her child alive she had no complaints. She heard their words hazily. They talked to Thranduil at the top of their lungs over her own cries. They said something about cutting her stomach. She did not care as long as they brought out her baby alive.

 

Thranduil must have agreed since the ellons suddenly started working frantically. She felt her brother’s hand on her wet temple as he murmured soothing words in her ear. She could not understand what he was saying, so engaged she was with her own pain but still she appreciated his presence.

 

The princess noted that the king woofed the healer maidens and the maids away and they left the chamber one by one. She no longer had any control on the twisting of her body or the howls that left her lungs. One of the ellons walked closer and said something to Thranduil. Whatever he had asked the king nodded and with shaky hands he lifted Aleth’s back so that the ellon could make her drink something. She didn’t even feel the bitter taste. Thranduil then placed her back on the bed. Slowly she felt her eyelids get heavy. Despite the fact that her pain had not lessened a bit she gradually lost the ability to scream her agony. An extreme fatigue ran like toxin through her veins and she almost lost all ability to give any reactions to the events occurring around her.

 

The princess no longer saw the ellons bring out clean knives with strange edges. She only felt with great intensity as a sharp burn shoot up from under her navel. All the reaction she could show was the tears that ran down her face. Still Thranduil murmured in her ear, sometimes singing distant tunes she had probably rememberd if she was in a better state. She felt everything they did to her. They cut through her womb like butchers and yet she did not care; as long as they brought out her child safely.

 

Whether from extreme pain or great loss of blood the princess was losing consciousness. To her it seemed like slipping into the soothing hands of death. She only wanted to know her baby was safe, and then she could leave this world that had nothing but pain.

 

In a flash of red before her watery eyes she noted one of the ellons getting away from her with something in his arms and the then the other caused her pains as if needles were going into her stomach.

She was slowly slipping into the world of unconsciousness as the pain of her labor had ended abruptly and only the vague burn of the deep cut on her abdomen remained. Her vision blackened completely and the sounds slowly died down. But before completely succumbing to her fatigue she heard that sound she had longed for; a sharp cry of a newborn baby.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm sorry if I have disappointed you because the child was not Legolas, I promise he will come soon enough.
> 
> I want you to know that I have a reason for bringing a girl for Thranduil. It wasn't because I wished for a crowd of original characters!!! I only need you to be patient with me as you've always been :D
> 
> The name Negaar, is an old Middle-Easter and probably Persian name; meaning a 'beautiful beloved'. I hope Master Tolkien forgives me for not using Elvish names!!!


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that it has taken me so long to post a new chapter. I had this horrible early hay fever that got me hospitalized!!! but the main reason was that I was going through a period of depression for no good reason and I couldn't even touch my laptop...but I finally managed to gather myself and write this chapter which was one of the hardest for me. It was supposed to be longer but I decided to write it in two; baby steps until I come back on track again :)  
> I want to thank all those who have kudoed and specially those who have taken the time to comment. It really helped me a lot to overcome this phase.   
> Again sorry for the late update, I'll try to post the next chapter faster...

It was almost two and a half days ride from the stronghold to the northern edge of Greenwood. But it had taken Galdor’s party almost four days to get there. The reason was the snow that had suddenly covered the woods. When they had set out from the new capital only the sharp wind indicated the coming of winter. Therefore the sudden snow had surprised them since they had no provisions with them. But despite the difficulties of their journey the small party had managed to reach the northern boarders and investigate the foul movements Thranduil had mentioned.

 

A vast wasteland was what lay before them as long as eyes could see, until it ended with the sight of the Grey Mountains. The view was not precisely foul if it was not for the fact that the land lay bare in the middle of snowfall. The snowflakes melted as soon as they fell on the ground as if the earth was too warm for them to endure. Galdor remembered these lands to be covered with short plants that grew in the meadows outside Greenwood. However the natural vegetation of the land was burned and even in some places black smoke from a recent fire could be seen.

 

The scenery made the steward squirm with disgust. What profane force would burn innocent plants for no good reason? Galdor feared, not only for the land but for the fact that they had travelled so up north only to face an unknown foe. They had to investigate further to see what exactly was that had done this to the land. He predicted a few more days would suffice. They may even have to cross the wasteland. Perhaps the culprits could be identified at the foot of the Grey Mountains.

 

“My lord…” he heard one of his sentries. “A rider approaches.”

 

Galdor turned to see that indeed a rider galloped towards them leaving a trail of dust behind him. Despite the fact that he was carrying the banner of Greenwood the steward’s sentries had their hands ready on the hilt of their swords. From the first day that Thranduil had assigned him as his hand one the king had insisted for him to have his own sentries for protection. Although Galdor had resisted at first Thranduil’s words had proved to be right after the assassination and he had finally accepted two sentries to follow him almost everywhere. It was ironic that once _he_ had been Thranduil’s only sentry.

 One of his guards walked closer to the approaching rider with his right hand raised. “Halt…!” he called aloud and the rider obeyed stopping his horse in a short distance from them and dismounted.

 

“I have a message for Lord Galdor…” he announced raising his hand to show a rolled parchment. “It’s from the king.”

 

The sentry went closer and took the sealed message from the rider. Then he walked back to Galdor and handed him the parchment. The steward broke Thranduil’s personal seal and unrolled the paper to face his rushed yet undeniably beautiful handwriting.

 

 

_Lord Steward;_

_My sister went into labor two days after your departure. Her childbirth was faced with such difficulties that I had to bring the master healers to her labor room. At last the decision lay between her life and her son’s. My decision of course was clear. Unfortunately she lost her child yet she is physically unharmed though she suffers from the loss and the despair of losing her son._

_I demand that you leave your mission at once and ride back to the city. Hopefully your presence would be the cure to her agitated soul._

_Thranduil_

Thranduil’s letter was short, to the point and devoid of any emotions but it did not fail to make the steward’s heart skip several beats. He had insisted on staying. He had wanted to be with Aleth when her childbirth happened and yet Thranduil had stubbornly sent him away on a mission that could have easily been postponed. Galdor was indeed very annoyed with the king but now was not the time for anger. Aleth had lost her child. The steward felt a pang on his chest from the thought. He had thought a lot and he had made himself ready to accept this child; to close his eyes on his origins and raise him as his own. The fact that he had learned the baby’s gender made it harder for him to accept his abrupt death. He had to go back or else he would go mad.

 

***

 

Galdor did not need to ask anything from anyone when he arrived at the stronghold. As soon as he walked through the gates the first servant who saw him pointed towards the healer’s wing without saying anything. He heard the gates close behind him; some twisted enchantment Thranduil had applied to keep his foes outside. The king was becoming stranger within every passing day. The corridors were still confusing for him and his anxiety did not help either but finally he managed to get himself to the chamber. Galdor pushed the doors open silently and walked inside.

 

Several beds were aligned in a long chamber. The spaces between them were separated by wooden dividers to ensure the privacy of the patients. This healer’s wing had the maximum number of beds in Middle-Earth after the last homely house and was considered as one of the Elvenking’s greatest achievements. Of course many had said this was a rivalry against lord Elrond. However Galdor was not thinking of these matters as he walked closer to the sleeping form of the princess on one of the beds.

 

She was soundly asleep in a clean white nightdress. Her hair was splayed on the pillows like melted gold and her dark lashes were in great contrast to her extremely paled face; even her slack lips were as colorless as the rest of her skin. A huge lump grew in Galdor’s throat as he gazed at his beloved. He wondered how much more hardship she had to endure. Had it not been enough?

 

Around the bed was covered with flowers, fruits and food people had sent to sympathize with the princess. Letters of condolences were sent to her by subjects who loved the royal family and Oropher’s daughter in particular. Despite all the sorrow the sight made Galdor smile.

 

Seeing the steward a healer maiden approached the bed. “Good afternoon my lord…” she whispered.

 

To that greeting Galdor merely nodded. He only kept looking at the princess; seeing her and actually not seeing her. He sensed the healer shift her weigh from one foot to another waiting to explain her condition.

 

“How is she?” he asked to make it easier for the elleth.

 

“Her Grace is much better than the first days…” The maiden said. “She’s a strong elleth.”

 

Galdor nodded before looking up at the healer expectantly.

“What happened?” he asked brokenly.

 

“She could not give birth to her child, and the midwives were also helpless.” She explained. “King Thranduil brought the master healers and sent everyone else out…They said the child was already dead when they took him out, but they managed to save her grace…”

 

_“Galdor…”_

Aleth’s low call snapped them out of the conversation. Galdor couldn’t suppress the smile that claimed his lips from the sight of her eyes opening though tears pooled in them immediately.

 

“My love…” he whispered just as Aleth rose on one elbow and the steward circled an arm around her torso and embraced her. She broke into silent tears when he crushed her to his chest. Her form trembled in Galdor’s arms and the steward hated his own helplessness. He cursed himself for not being there when she had needed him the most. He had no blood connection to the dead baby but he was heartbroken all the same by the event just because his hopes of building a family with Aleth and the child that he would accept willingly had been shattered. He couldn’t fathom in what a huge agony Aleth was.

 

“It was boy…” the princess sobbed, pushing on his chest gently so that she could look at his face. “Thranduil had him buried before I even woke up…he didn’t even let me see my child.”

 

Galdor felt a stab on his heart. He could understand that probably the king wouldn’t have wanted to agonize his sister more and had judged this action in Aleth’s best interest. Yet it was the princess’s right to see her son before burial and Galdor could not help his anger towards Thranduil which had already claimed his heart and each new accusation fueled the fire inside him.

 

“Everything will get better with time my dear…” was all he could say as he caressed Aleth’s wet face wiping the tears with his thumb. He hated how clichéd his words sounded. “We will have many children and we will raise them together…” Galdor said and embraced the princess again.

 

She placed her head on his chest, still sobbing quietly. Aleth was calmer than the first days she had found her consciousness. Upon hearing that her child had been born dead she had almost lost her mind. The princess had screamed and whined from the pain of the loss and many times the healers had to subdue her with powerful herbs that caused her hours of deep sleep. This child; this lost boy of hers, was never wanted and the princess knew this. She knew that she had been carrying a child of rape that had blood of lowly humans in his veins but she had accepted the fact and was willing to love him all the same. She was ready to fight every soul on Arda and make them accept her son as well.

 

They said that time is the best healer and the princess had to admit that the pain in her heart that had almost threatened to kill her when she had first received the news had lessened during the week that had passed. The pain was not gone and Aleth doubted if it ever would but rather the wound that was deep, open and bleeding on the first days was now an agonizing scar that was already beginning to heal. She hated this fact. Sooner or later everyone would forget her dead child. After all who had the time to care for a boy who never came to live in a world that was constantly getting worse, where everyone had sorrows of their own? She knew that she was the only one who would remember him and she hated that forgetting was the only cure for her pain.

 

The princess continued her silent weeping in Galdor’s strong arms. His presence had lifted her twisted spirit. Slowly the effect of the sleeping herbs was catching up with her again and her eyelids got heavier. She fell asleep in the tranquility of Galdor’s arms.

 

The steward placed her back on the bed slowly and with much care. He couldn’t help caressing her hair and face, kissing her several times while he broke into silent tears. He would have gladly endured all the pain and loss in the world to relieve her from this agony but he was so useless.

 

After several minutes the steward sighed and ran his hands on his face, gaining back his composure. He fussed with the blankets covering her as he rose to his feet turning towards the healer whom he had almost forgotten her presence.

 

“Where is the king?” he asked.

 

***

 

Thranduil flinched when the baby’s cries got louder. All the healers of the court had gathered and after much consultation they had given a hypothesis that perhaps the little princess had an inner bone problem that made her cry almost constantly. Of course they had explained that major bone issues might have caused the fevers as well. The healers had come together in a chamber to examine Negaar. The room was full of strange equipment. There was a small table almost as high as a man’s waist with horrifying gadgets attached to it to stretch the body in different forms. They looked more like tools of torture but they were purely medical and they were established to examine the royal baby.

 

The king had not allowed Leuthil to come here. The queen had cried and almost panicked when he took Negaar from her arms. Of course the experience with Aleth’s son did not help soothing her agitation. Thranduil had gone to the chamber with only Erhan to accompany him. All the way the princess had sobbed in her father’s arms, her aquamarine eyes rolling in her little scull as if she could see things others could not.

 

Upon seeing the tools in the chamber Thranduil had hesitated in handing his daughter to the healers. It had taken much encouraging words from Erhan and much persuasion from Hafez, the master healer, to take the child from his arms and as the healer had walked away towards the table Thranduil’s heart beat frantically against his chest doubting several times on his decision to do this examination in the first place.

 

The king wondered if it was possible to love someone more than this. Every time he held or even saw Negaar he felt such an excitement and love that it threatened to overwhelm him. His heart beat so fast that he would be scared that it would burst out of his chest. But the worst was to see his child suffer. Every single drop of tear that left her eyes made his breath hitch in anxiety and helplessness. He could fight an army of thousands of dragons, but he couldn’t see the pain of his daughter. When the healers formed a wall of flesh around the baby Thranduil’s knees almost gave away under him.

 

He couldn’t see what they were doing. Even with his exceptional height he couldn’t pick on what madness this was. He could only hear her cries that sounded more like wails now. The king could see that they had bound Negaar to the gadgets and when one of the healers tightened the cords the baby’s screams could almost make them deaf. Thranduil paced back and forth like a helpless lion in a cage. He panted as his breaths would not go down and tears started welling in his eyes. Erhand placed a hand on his shoulder but he couldn’t calm him as the king circled himself in panic clutching his own hair.

 

Finally after what seemed like hours her cries quieted and the king finally dared to look at the table. The healers freed the baby from the bounds rather fast. Hafez approached them with Negaar in his arms. The princess was now merely whimpering. He handed her to Thranduil. The little one clung to the king’s tunic almost immediately, her tears and saliva staining the expensive material. Thranduil could not help his own tears streaming down his face as he kissed his weeping daughter every place he could and with his thumb he wiped the little tears off her tiny face but more came.

 

“So?!” he asked expectantly, still kissing and caressing the crying baby as he shifted her in his arms.

 

“My king…We have not found any certain disease or any kind of twist in the bones…” the master healer said as he shifted his weigh.

 

“Then you’re not looking hard enough!!!” Thranduil snapped loudly, making the room silent. “My daughter is suffering and the best healers of my realm cannot find her ailment…I must say I am truly disappointed!”

 

The healers were dead silent, daring not move a finger as the king eyed them with his death glare. Thranduil was frustrated and as much as he wanted to ignore it, he was scared. The thing that was making his daughter suffer had to be found or else he would lose his mind.

 

“M…my king…” Hafez stammered. “We will keep searching; surely we would come to some answer…”

 

“You better do…” Thranduil answered sharply, turning away while he still caressed his weeping baby who had panicked more from her father’s outburst. The healers took the opportunity to start gathering their things so that they could run from the king’s wrath as fast as possible.

 

There was a brief knock on the door and Galdor entered. He could clearly sense the tension in the room and by the sight of the healers trying to throw themselves out he could easily guess that the king had shown a tingle or his famous rage to them. The steward’s gaze found Thranduil as he kissed and caressed the baby in his arms almost desperately in a vain attempt to calm her. But if those touches were supposed to quiet the little one, they were failing miserably. Galdor also saw Erhan standing beside Thranduil. The sentry looked up and gave him a court nod. The steward could just smash that face of his. The fire of jealously that was aroused in him by seeing the pathetic guard beside the king threatened to make the steward do something really stupid. The place beside Thranduil was for him and no-other. He was Thranduil’s friend and companion and he could break the sentry’s nose for setting his foot in his territory.

 

“Galdor…” Thranduil’s desperate sigh snapped him back to reality. “You came…”

 

The steward walked closed and bowed his head for the king. “I went to Aleth first…”

 

“Good…” Thranduil nodded as he shifted the weeping baby across his chest. Negaar seemed very dissatisfied and cried even louder.

 

Galdor observed as Thranduil miserably tried to sooth the princess. The king had grown sickeningly thin and exhaustion was all that was projected from his bearing. In a moment Galdor even thought that Thranduil was even too weak to hold the baby a second longer. Erhan must’ve also sensed this since he held out his hands and slowly took the baby from the king.

 

Galdor had expected some kind of protest from Thranduil but in fact the king seemed satisfied to be relieved of the burden. He ran a hand on his face trying to gain back his composure.

 

“How was Aleth?” he asked after a few moments.

 

“Better that what I thought she would be…” Galdor stated.

 

“She’s calmer now; you should’ve seen her on the first days!” The king shook his head.

 

Galdor opened his mouth to answer but he forgot what he wanted to say as the constant cries of the baby in the background unexpectedly stopped. Thranduil also jumped from the abrupt silence and turned his astonished eyes toward Erhan who was holding the little princess. The elfling had suddenly fallen asleep in his arms. The sentry was just as shocked as the other two and he looked up at the king with wide eyes.

 

“I think she passed out from exhaustion your majesty!” he said.

 

“No…” Thranduil said deep in thought, his eyes never leaving the sleeping form of the baby. “She cries harder whenever _I_ hold her.”

 

Galdor did not like the look of realization on Thranduil’s face and the sorrowful gaze that followed. 

“Nonsense!” he said. “How did you come up with such a genius idea?”

 

“I’ll take her to the queen…” Erhan announced and the steward didn’t like the confidence in his tone. The king nodded and the sentry left with the baby after a slight bow.

 

Thranduil also started walking towards his study, Galdor followed. They did not talk much as they walked through corridor after corridor. As Thranduil opened the door to the chamber he broke the silence. “I’m glad that you could ride back to the palace so fast…even in this snow.”

 

Galdor merely nodded as he closed the door of the study and watched as Thranduil dropped on the chair behind his desk and held his face in his hands with elbows on the desk.

 

“Where did you have the child buried?” Galdor asked coldly.

 

“Haron Hollow…” Thranduil sighed as he sat back. The king’s eyes then observed the steward who was still clad in his travelling suit. Strangely he gave Galdor a faint and rather tired smile.

 

“Do not fret…Aleth is strong.” The king said. “I will send someone else on the mission so that you can remain here. With you alongside her, she will overcome her grief soon.”

 

Galdor felt his blood suddenly boil. As Thranduil’s life companion there had been times that the steward had been annoyed or even angered by his stubborn, haughty and hot-headed personality. But never had he felt such a rage towards him. The lord found himself unable to contain his anger anymore.

 

“If it wasn’t for your stubbornness I would’ve been with her when she went into labor…” the steward suddenly snapped. “You could’ve easily sent someone else in the first place.”

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened in surprise for he had not expected the steward to talk to him like this and Galdor expected some kind of scolding for his harsh words but instead he found the king defending himself.

 

“I couldn’t have predicted this Galdor!” he argued.

 

“Everyone knows childbirth is a risky affair!” Galdor sneered. “Your mission could have waited a few more days! It wasn’t so urgent!”

 

“ _I_ am the one who says what is urgent!” Thranudil suddenly roared as he slammed his fist on the desk and rose to his full height like an angry dragon.

 

Though Galdor was still angry he was taken aback by the king’s sudden reaction and instinctively he took a step back. The steward had crossed his limits by talking like that to the king. Despite looking extremely weak and exhausted Thranduil was still intimidating when angered. But the king’s heated aura dimmed just as fast as it had appeared and the rage in his eyes died only to be replaced with an almost pleading look.

 

“My sister lost her son, I had to burry my dead nephew, my own daughter is sick with an unknown disease…” Thranduil sighed desperately. “Please Galdor; do not add guilt to the list of my miseries.”

 

Galdor’s anger was gradually replaced by understanding. Although Thranduil was to blame for the brief separation that had caused Aleth to grieve the loss of her baby alone but now was hardly the time. The steward watched as Thranduil slumped down on his seat as if his legs could not hold him up and he even felt remorse for talking like that to his friend. It still fascinated the steward how the children of Oropher played with his feeling’s so easily.

 

“I’m sorry…” Galdor whispered.

 

Thranduil merely nodded at the apology. A few moments passed in silence until Thranduil finally broke it.

 

“When you enter Haron Hollow, it’s the last grave on the second row from the left.” Thranduil explained. “Take Aleth there if you think it would sooth her sorrow.”

 

***

 

Despite her unconditional love for her child Leuthil had to admit her condition was exhausting her. Negaar cried almost constantly and when she didn’t cry she was deep asleep burning in time to time strange fevers. Now after almost an hour of walking with the baby in her arms and singing all the lullabies she knew the princess was still sobbing as if the world was going to end. The queen had sent all the maids out. The noise the baby made was enough and she didn’t need the fussing of maids around her as well. The dim light of the afternoon had settled in the living room that was adjoined to their bed chamber. The exhausted rays of the sun that gave the chamber a shade of red depressed her even more.

 

There was a faint knock on the door which would have probably gone unheard if it wasn’t for her great elven senses. It angered her since she had been specific on her orders not to be disturbed. The queen decided not to answer and the knocker would probably go away but when she heard the door open behind her Leuthil turned around rapidly to snap at anyone who had dared to invade her privacy.

 

“Lord Glorfindel!!!” she gasped at the sight and thanked the Valar for stopping her from shouting at the ellon who was regarding her with compassion.

 

“My lady!” he bowed his head slightly as he walked in and closed the door without being invited. “The little one is still making a commotion, isn’t she?”

 

“I don’t know what to do anymore?!” Leuthil shook her head. “The healers have found nothing…”

 

Glorfindel walked closer and slowly took the baby from the queen. She was thankful for the gesture since her arms were becoming numb from hours of holding the child in the bundle of blankets. The lord shifted Negaar and caressed her little head as Leuthil watched.

 

“Let’s take her out…” he said lively looking up at the queen. “Perhaps she’ll like the nature!”

 

“No it’s too dangerous!” the queen protested immediately making Glorfindel raise his eyebrows.

 

“If I had such a dull mother I would’ve also wept all day!” he said dryly.

 

Leuthil smirked at that. In fact she had to admit that the baby indeed had dull parents. Of course Thranduil was not at all a dull person but his duties made him such and about herself; wells she had to confess she was always a conservative person and becoming the queen of a land constantly in danger had perhaps made her duller.

 

However the thought of a walk outside was exciting. She hadn’t been out of the stronghold since she had first arrived here. They had deemed it too dangerous while she was pregnant and after more than three months since Negaar was born the baby’s issues had kept her inside constantly. The queen had to also admit that the company of Glorfindel was a pleasant one if he was to accompany her outside.

 

“Some fresh air would do her good!” the lord encouraged.

 

“There’s much danger outside the fortress…” the queen argued half-heartedly.

 

“I’ll protect you…” Glorfindel said firmly.

 

Leuthil smiled at the lord’s smug expression. “Alright …” she finally sighed. “Just allow me to pick blanket for her, It’s cold outside.”

 

“Pick a cloak for yourself as well…” Glorfindel added as she walked to the bed chamber. “I will not answer to the Elvenking if you freeze yourself!”

 

 

 

They walked towards the courtyard in silence. Glorfindel played with the baby along the way trying to make her smile by making silly faces. He had managed to reduce the loud cries to occasional whimpers and that was a victory in itself. The queen found her ears whistling from the relative quietness.

 

The halls of Greenwood were glorious and lively. People walked around on different levels of the underground Kingdom, going after their daily duties. Practically the royal family now lived among the people and it had a good feeling. The queen felt herself closer to the subjects and this would indeed be beneficial for both Thranduil and his people. The feeling of hope was in the air like invisible waves.

 

The gates opened automatically for them when they approached. If Glorfindel was fascinated by the use of magic he didn’t show it. Or perhaps he had seen greater works of magic done by the Peredhel and his Vilya in Imladris. Leuthil found herself wondering how the great valley would be and where did the lord of the Golden Flower live in Rivendell.

 

The cold breeze of winter welcomed them as they stepped outside to the courtyard. The world had turned white. Ice and snow had covered everywhere. The trees were bent by the weight of the snow and icicles were hanging from their branches as if the Valar had dressed them to become brides of winter.

 

Strangely the scenery reminded Leuthil of Thranduil. She had once called him King of Ice, because of the icy color of his eyes and how it reminded her of the heavy winters, but recently he had lived up to his name. Leuthil blamed it on his overwhelming duties but Thranduil had become too distant, too cold. He avoided her. Though he tried not to upset her he escaped any kind of contact as much as he could. As much as she didn’t want to believe but her feelings were bright as day. Thranduil came to bed very late when she definitely was already sleeping. He almost avoided any lovemaking; excusing himself by mentioning _her_ condition though months had passed from her childbirth. They rarely even kissed nowadays. Though Leuthil did not feel that his love for her had lessened she couldn’t help but feel sad and lonely. Thranduil used to have a very warm nature and the queen felt as if she did not know this icy king anymore.

 

“She’s stopped crying…” Glorfindel’s astonished voice snapped Leuthil back to reality and her eyes immediately searched for Negaar.

 

Not only she wasn’t crying but she was beaming at the sky and with her little arms stretched trying to catch the snowflakes that danced around them by the breeze. Glorfindel tickled her on her stomach making the baby giggle in his arms as he regarded her fondly.

 

“I knew what was wrong with you!” The lord told the child in a loud voice so that Leuthil could also hear. “You hate these caves just as much as I do!”

 

“They are not caves…!” Leuthil protested.

 

“They are beautiful…” Glorfindel looked up. “But caves they are none the less!”

 

The queen opened her mouth to argue but words escaped her under the lord’s challenging gaze. She shut her mouth and opened it again like a fish gasping for air but at last she had to give up on trying to argue with this viewpoint though she couldn’t accept it as entirely true.

 

The sound of the baby giggling filled the air as the queen and the lord stared at each other, each deep in their own separate thoughts; one thinking that the ellon in front of her was perhaps the only one who had managed to make her grumpy baby lough and the other contemplating on the beauty of the Elvenking’s wife.

***

 

After almost three weeks of being kept in the healer’s wing and then her chambers Aleth found the liberty of going outside. Wrapped in layers of furs to protect her from the cold the princess felt the stinging wind none the less. Galdor was at her side as always, holding her left hand in his and circling his right arm around her waist protectively. The wind blew her golden hair out of her face and the steward inhaled her scent with a deep breath.

 

He thanked the Valar since the princess was gradually getting better. Her restlessness was gone leaving only sorrow of her lost child. Galdor prayed that she would overcome this as well. He couldn’t know if visiting her son’s grave would help the princess or not. The steward could only hope.

 

Aleth had much confusion. There were many unanswered questions lingering on her mind and heart. Despite Galdor’s doubts on visiting the resting place of her son, the princess was certain it would help. She needed to see so that she could believe and then try to continue. She needed to think.

 

Haron Hollow was a quiet graveyard close to the fortress, previously used by the wood-elves who lived in the north of Greenwood. It had been developed when the king had decided to settle in the stronghold and more lands had been added to it. The graveyard was a land now covered in snow where branches with names had been settled in the ground, indicating the owner of each grave. These wooden blocks were changed by the elves when they wore out and the carved names on them became unreadable. However many of the wooden blocks were scrawled since many years and perhaps centuries had passed since their owners had been resting there. It also showed the fact that all the dead person’s relatives and friends were either dead already or have sailed. 

 

Among the graves there was a place where the soil was cluttered as if it had been recently dug out. When they approached the shape of the dark soil and the wooden block upon it showed that it belonged to a very young elfling’s resting place. ‘ _Son of Aleth’_ the freshly carved wood said.

 

The princess broke into tears almost immediately after seeing the grave. Galdor felt her becoming heavier and couldn’t stop her from falling to her knees in the snow. The princess wept freely. She cursed all that she knew because of the injustice done to her when the men defiled her and the cruelty fate brought her by taking away her son. Her cries broke the calm silence of the graveyard making the crows fly from the branches and the trees to sing laments for her sorrow. The princess cried until all strength left her and she merely sat there on her knees looking at nowhere; drops of sparkling tears leaving her eyes.

 

“I need to be alone Galdor…” she whispered after a long while.

 

The steward opened his mouth to protest but he was silenced by Aleth looking up at him pleadingly.

“Please…” she whispered.

 

Galdor was reluctant to leave her. She was weak and vulnerable and definitely not stable. But her pleading eyes left no argument for him.

“I’ll come back for you in an hour…” he said tenderly.

 

“Don’t…” Aleth whispered, taking her eyes off the steward to gaze back at the grave. “I can find my way back.” When she saw the hesitance in the lord she looked up at him again. “We’re very close to the fortress and besides the place is guarded…there’s no danger.”

 

The steward gazed at her for a long while before nodding his agreement. He bent and kissed the top of her head affectionately. “I love you, Aleth…” he whispered.

 

“I love you…” the princess said in a hardly audible tone.

 

Galdor walked away from her slowly. He stopped to talk with the guards, probably telling them to keep their eyes open while keeping their distance. Then the steward walked towards the fortress with a heavy heart. Aleth watched his retreating form until it became a black dot and then disappeared. Then she turned towards the grave again.

 

Slowly scattered snowflakes were dancing in the air around the princess as she sat there; contemplating. Her gaze never left the grave. It was so small that it didn’t even look like a resting place of a dead elf. Aleth had not seen her child but she could imagine the small baby he would’ve been if he had lived. How that treacherous soil had devoured that tiny body was a mystery to her. How could that earth be so impudent as to take away an innocent child so shamelessly?

 

Since she had awakened from unconsciousness after her labor she was haunted by pictures; flashes of red, a tiny form covered in blood, wriggling in the hands of the healers. She didn’t know if those pictures were memories or the tricks her mind was playing with her. She might have hallucinated everything but the princess remembered many things very sharply. In the past weeks she couldn’t organize her thoughts due to the sorrow and confusion of her loss but now, this vast empty land, full of long dead bodies gave her the solitude and silence she needed to think and recall what she had had forgotten. The princess remembered unbearable pain, though vaguely. She remembered hours of struggling to give birth to her child but to no avail. Her own animalistic screams and cries were still ringing in her head and she recalled well how she had wished to die if only the pain would’ve stopped. Aleth was completely aware of the happenings around her when Thranduil had entered the room with healers, all them Aleth now remembered to be the masters in their profession. The king had ordered everyone out. Aleth remembered not caring that she was exposed to male healers with no elleth in the room to comfort her; if they could’ve stopped the pain and bring her child out alive, she had no complaint. The princess remembered the argument the healers had with her brother though she had not heard their words over her own screams. What she also recalled clearly was Thranduil’s soothing presences and his voice, saying encouraging nonsense to her.  This was the place where her consciousness had slipped from her gradually. The maids had later told her that her son had been born dead; that he was already lifeless when they had managed to take him out. She hadn’t heard it directly from Thranduil since the king had not visited there except at nights when she was asleep. She was always told indirectly.

 

The princess closed her eyes and rubbed them. She knew there was some piece missing in this puzzle. Something she had forgotten and would not remember easily. What she also knew was that it was crucial for her to recall or else she would go mad. Behind her closed eyelids she could see flashes of red as she remembered a red and swollen baby…and yet something else.

 

Aleth’s eyes snapped open when her elven ears remembered sharp cries of a newborn baby.

 

***

 

Galdor had found it difficult to engage himself and to not think about Aleth sitting beside a grave and weeping. Despite the fact that everyone told him that he was the one who had to help Aleth out of her sorrow, the steward felt utterly useless in this matter. He knew that the princess appreciated his presence and support but he had learned that no one could help Aleth but herself.

 

Restless as he was Galdor had finally decided to go to Thranduil’s study to at least give him the report on what he had observed while in the north. He was now standing in front of the king’s desk watching him as Thranduil took his time on thinking about the things he had said. It gave the steward the opportunity to observe his lifetime friend without making Thranduil uncomfortable. The thinness of the king’s face was concerning indeed. The hollows on his cheeks made his high cheekbones stand out exaggeratingly and the lack of flesh on his face made his delicate nose look sharp and even a bit hostile. The steward’s thoughts however were cut off by the king’s voice.

 

“You said the lands were burned…” Thranduil said frowning. “What kind of evil would do that?”

 

“I didn’t get the time to observe further…” Galdor shrugged.

 

Thranduil sighed and sat back. “Write a report and hand it to Daitrid, he’ll be going there tomorrow to continue the scouts…”

 

Galdor nodded and watched as Thranduil picked a sealed parchment and stretched it towards him. The steward took the parchment and eyed the kind curiously.

“It’s a letter for Imladris…” Thranduil explained. “I need it to reach lord Elrond…”

 

“I’ll find a messenger today…” Galdor assured as he placed the letter in his tunic.

 

The steward contemplated on whether he should express his worries on the king’s wellbeing. But when he opened his mouth he was interrupted by the sharp voices coming from outside the door.

 

_“I wish to see my brother…”_

_“My lady, please wait…”_

_“Get out of my way!”_

 

Thranduil and Galdor only got the chance to exchange a meaningful gaze before Aleth stormed in the king’s study. Somewhere along her stride from the graveyard to the stronghold she had shrugged the furs and cloaks off standing now with only a dark green garment; her hair dishelved liked her thoughts.

Seeing her demeanor Thranduil rose to his feet as Erhan followed the princess inside the chamber trying to stop her. 

 

“You did it!!!” Aleth screamed eyeing Thranduil wildly. “ _You_ killed my son!”

 

Galdor couldn’t suppress a gasp. A few silent moments passed until his mind started responding again. As much as Aleth’s accusation seemed absurd to him he found his gaze being darted to Thranduil to see his reaction. The king was wearing an expressionless mask, probably waiting for Aleth to reveal all her cards before he would react on her words.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Aleth…” he said in a monotonous voice, too calm to be true.

 

“Well I think you do…” Aleth exclaimed madly. “My son was alive…”

 

“He was born dead…” Thranduil said dryly showing his teeth more than necessary.

 

“He was alive…He _CRIED_ … I heard it…” Aleth screamed making a cold shiver run down Galdor’s spine.

 

Thranduil’s face hardened as Aleth approached him knocking off anything she could in her way. “You were hardly conscious…” the king snapped. “He was already dead when they took him out…”

 

“LIAR!!!” Aleth cried aloud, swishing her arm angrily and breaking the bottle of wine. Reaching her brother she started punching her fists to his chest with every word. “My…son…cried...he…was…alive”

 

Though her punches didn’t seem to affect the king, Galdor knew that he had to stop his wife but he was too shocked to move a muscle. Thranduil took a few fists on his chest before his cold face shattered to one of anger. He easily grabbed Aleth’s wrists in one of his hands and then he took her face in his other grip violently bringing the princess’ face closer to his. The princess’s eyes widened by the sudden force applied on her as she couldn’t move a muscle in Thranduil’s powerful hands.

 

“I understand your situation Aleth, and for that I choose to consider your words unheard…” the king said in a dangerously calm voice eyeing his sister with pupils that had shrunk to a dot in his aquamarine orbs. “I may be your brother but I am also your king…I will have you pay for it if you accuse me as such again…”

 

Thranduil released Aleth from his firm hold with a slight push making the princess stumble and hit the desk. Aleth trembled like a leaf in the spring storms and tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked like a wounded lioness with her hair standing like that and snarling in rage. Clearly she had not believed Thranduil’s innocence.

 

“You fooled me all along…” She sobbed. “You were never going to let my son live…”

 

“Leave Aleth…” Thranduil sighed angrily and the steward was surprised that the king sounded exhausted as if he didn’t have the strength to fight his sister anymore.

 

“How could you do this to me?!” Aleth screamed again.

 

_“Aleth that’s enough!”_

The queen’s commanding tone snapped all of them out of their trance. Some time during the quarrel Leuthil had entered the study and not even Galdor had noticed her presence. She had watched in silence as the princess accused her husband and finally lost her temper when she saw that Thranduil looked too weak to be able to take more accusations even though he had shown a strong unwavering façade.

 

All gazes turned to the queen who seemed more powerful than ever with her hair tied in a huge bum and eyes glinting furiously. She walked a few steps closer and stood face to face with Aleth. “I will not have you accuse my husband of such vile crimes…” she said firmly, even aloud. “It is best that you go to our chamber and clear your mind…”

 

At first it seemed that Aleth would start a new fight with the queen but apparently the princess was also drained with her body shaking and tears still streaming down her cheeks. She turned back to look at her brother with a tearful accusing gaze once again.

 

“You’re no king…” She whispered. “You’re a _monster_ …”   

 

She threw a betrayed glance at Leuthil and then as if in a daze she walked out of the study numbly. It took Galdor a moment to recover. He glanced at Thranduil who was standing behind his desk like a statue and then he ran after Aleth.

 

Thranduil released a breath he had not known he had been keeping. He seemed in his own trance as he looked around the room that was now covered with broken things. When the king’s eyes found Leuthil’s he didn’t see the wife who had defended her husband so strongly moments ago but he saw doubt, confusion and even a silent accusation in her blue eyes.

 

 

 


	57. Chapter 57

“Have you done this?!”

 

Leuthil’s voice was sharp as she wanted it to be. She turned completely towards the king, regarding him with clear blue eyes. The orbs that normally look upon the Elvenking with love, trust or lust now gazed at him with pure doubt. The distrust that had taken root inside her chest was like a hot sword being impaled in her heart. The queen had known Thranduil for a long time; many years as a classmate in court, many years merely as the prince of the woods and centuries as her husband. She knew Thranduil to have been an impudent, disobedient and reckless prince. She knew him to be a stern and short tempered yet flexible king and an emotional and passionate lover and husband. Leuthil had never known him to be cruel, unjust or a tyrant. But Aleth’s words had been strong and straight as if she had no doubt and the queen had to admit that she had been shaken by the dread that her accusation caused, despite the fact that she had stood up for her husband.

 

She took a step closer to Thranduil. The days of dealing with the trouble making little princess had made the queen change her fashion slightly to be more practical while dealing with the baby. Her hair that was normally loose in typical elven style was gathered in a rather huge bun upon her head behind the tiara that was adorning her features. Her dress was dark green with rather wide shoulder cuts that had become trendy in the recent years. All these were added to her piercing blue gaze that bore deep into the Elvenking making her look more powerful and more authoritarian.

 

From Thranduil’s features she could read nothing at first. If she had been more observant the queen would have noted her husband’s dangerously hollow cheeks and sickeningly pale face that made his eyebrows look even darker. But Leuthil was too busy with the king’s eyes that were disturbingly emotionless at first but then they slightly widened with betrayal and disbelief like a startled soldier who cannot believe his own death when surprisingly pierced with the enemy’s blade.

 

“I can’t believe you believe her…!” he gasped.

 

“I asked you a question Thranduil…” the queen demanded with a firm and rather loud voice. “Answer me!”

 

After realizing that she had almost yelled at Thranduil and literary ordered her king Leuthil slightly panicked, but Thranduil seemed not himself. The king was never a defensive person and even when he made mistakes he would keep his aggressive nature not allowing anyone to accuse or critisize him. But his guard was high now and he sounded self-protective when he argued back.   

 

“How can you accuse me of killing a baby?!” he exclaimed. “Do you suggest that I took him in my arms and cut his tiny throat with my dagger?!”

 

The image of Thranduil cutting a baby’s throat with his father’s jeweled knife flashed in Leuthil’s mind and threatened to make her sick. But the king’s words had not satisfied her. She needed answers; direct answers. However when the queen opened her mouth to argue further the door of the study was abruptly opened and Galdor stormed into the chamber making them both jump.

 

“I might as well tell Erhan to stop your entrance to my study if you don’t care to knock Galdor!” Thranduil almost yelled at the steward.

 

Despite the anger the king had shown the lord seemed undeterred as he walked closer and regarded Thradnuil with a dark and suspicious glare far away from the respect he always showed the king despite their years of friendship. 

“Have you done this?!” he asked angrily.

 

Thranduil’s jaw dropped open when he was faced with exactly the same question this time from his lifetime friend. “Do you both truly believe I’m capable of such a thing?!” he asked exhaustedly his eyes darting from Galdor to Leuthil with disbelief lingering in them.

 

“You send Galdor away on a mission. You send me away from her bedside. You send all the maids and midwives out and you have the corpse buried before anyone could see him.” the queen exclaimed waving her hand in the air angrily. “I’m sorry Thranduil but you don’t exactly look innocent!”

 

“Yes I had the dead baby buried because it wasn’t a pleasant sight to observe!” the king shot back. “I wanted neither you nor Aleth to see him.”

 

“You told us the baby was born dead…” Galdor argued ignoring Thranduil’s last comment. “But Aleth says otherwise. She said she had heard the baby cry…”

 

Thranduil huffed out the air and said his words aloud and one by one as if it would instill it in their minds. “She…was…hallucinating!”

 

Galdor sneered bitterly and shook his head while Leuthil pursed her lips to a line as if she wanted to stop unwanted words to spill out. Thranduil knew they were not satisfied with his explanation yet.

 

“She was hours in dreadful pain, subdued by drugs with her belly cut open and blood flowing from her like a river…!” Thranduil yelled finally losing his temper completely. “Do you really think it’s impossible for her to imagine a cry of a baby?! To hallucinate what she wished for!?”

 

At first Thranduil thought his explanation had fallen on deaf ears again and that he had wasted his scarce strength in vain but then the change he had wished for appeared. Galdor’s features softened slightly and his angry and accusing gaze was replaced with a sorrowful one. He sighed and ran a hand on his face. He had been on the verge of death once and he recalled well that in those moments he too had seen things that were not there. To him the king’s explanations were becoming more vivid and acceptable.

Leuthil still had her gaze on her husband but her look too had changed to a tenderer one. In fact she had believed what she had wanted to believe. Doubting Thranduil for just a second had almost stopped her heart and now as the king’s explanations sunk in she felt the waves of much needed relief. She too had gone through the pain of childbirth. In spite of how easy her own delivery had been she could understand how horrible Aleth’s condition had been then. The queen then knew that Thranduil couldn’t have done this.

 

“Now if the interrogation is over, I wish to be left alone!” the king snapped after silence lingered between the three for a while.

 

Leuthil and Galdor exchanged a glance. Both knew that the other had believed Thranduil’s innocence and both knew that the other was not sorry for their hard questioning because they had needed the assurance. But they were of course both sorry to attack the king like this.

 

“I shall go to her…” Galdor whispered after a while not looking the king in the eye.

 

At that Thranduil merely nodded not lsparing the steward a glance. Galdor bowed his head slightly and hesitantly walked to the door. Before leaving he turned and glanced at the king once more. Thranduil looked as if he had returned from a battle. He was flushed yet tired and weak. The steward too had wanted to believe his friend’s innocence and so he did and left the study.

 

Thranduil sighed and turned sulkily towards the small window in the stone wall. Leuthil regretted her words but she had needed to hear the truth from her husband. Slowly she walked closer to the king as if she was afraid that he would suddenly turn and bite her like a wild animal. Small pieces of glass that were the remains of the once beautiful bottle of wine cracked under her shoes. She finally reached him and tenderly placed her hand on his arm. She was relieved when he didn’t pull back from her touch but merely turned his face away crossly. She dared further and placed her other hand on his cheek and turned his face towards herself with all the compassion she could muster. His face was now towards her but he looked away with his eyes cast down.

 

“Forgive me…” she whispered. “I should not have doubted you…”

 

He lifted his aquamarine orbs to look at her. There was still irritation lingering in his gaze but Leuthil knew she was forgiven and that Thranduil understood. He sighed again and circled his arm around her, drawing her into an embrace which she accepted gladly. She inhaled his scent of woods and rain and closed her eyes though she was surprised at how easily Thranduil had forgiven her.

 

“Leuthil…” the king whispered after a long while as he slightly pushed her from his chest. “I need to be alone. Please…”

 

Despite the fact that she was upset from his demand the queen understood. They had attacked Thranduil mercilessly and of course he needed to be alone to recover. So she nodded but before leaving she leaned and kissed him lightly. Thranduil kissed her back but did no attempt to deepen it. It was merely a brush of the lips that could have passed as chaste.

 

“Will you come sooner tonight?” Leuthil asked when they parted, looking up at Thranduil with pleading eyes as she playe with the buttons of his tunic seductively. “I miss you…”

 

“I have to work late…” The king answered, and if it wasn’t for his tender smile his tone could have been considered dry and icy. Seeing Leuthil’s fallen face he caressed her hair out of her face and kissed her brow. “I’m sorry my dear…”

 

Leuthil shook her head and parted from his warmth that was so seductive and yet so unwelcoming. His gaze lingered on her as she walked to the door and left the study with a demeanor that was so different from what it was when she had entered the chamber like a summer storm.

 

Thranduil sighed. It was his last wish to upset her, to deny her like this. Seeing her slummed shoulders and despair had broken his heart but he was helpless. The king had become too weak and so sick. His body had turned ugly and nauseatingly thin with his skin stretched on his bones. He feared to show himself to her. He knew he couldn’t stand the fuss and the horror in her eyes and he had to admit he feared the disgust she might feel from the sight he had to offer. And moreover he was not sure if his body had the strength of any form of physical contact; either a battle or lovemaking. The shame of his weakness left the king sweating under the layers of robes that hid his vulnerable body from prying eyes.

 

***

 

Glorfindel enjoyed the cold weather unlike many others. His many years on patrols and away in the wild had taught him to appreciate any kind of weather. Imladris rarely saw such heavy snowfalls and the lord was quite amused by the deep snow covering the courtyard of the Elvenking. Just like the palace in Amon Lanc benches had been placed outside for the royal family and the residents of the stronghold to enjoy the fresh air in a gesture to make the new fortress look like their home. However the seats were vacant and almost frozen today because of the stinging cold.

 

As The Balrog-Slayer walked along a path that was made on the outer side of the fortress he saw a figure from afar. He narrowed his eyes in order to see through the mist. His sharp eyes could easily pick up the sight of the queen. He smirked to himself. Even when for a change he didn’t go looking around for her, somehow she ended up in his path. However it was strange for Leuthil to be outside on such a cold day. The lord also knew that she had been very busy lately with the princess losing her child and the issues of her own daughter. But still it made him happy to see her and a strange sensation crept into his heart making warmth spread through his body. His amusement did not last long as he noted that the elleth’s body was strangely swaying as if she couldn’t balance herself. It was strange for the graceful queen to be in such a state and it worried Glorfindel making him walked faster towards her. He reached Leuthil just in time to catch her from falling face down on the snow.

 

“My lady!!!!” he exclaimed as he caught her firmly by her arms. She gasped and went rigid in his arms as if she had been awakened from sleep. When she realized who he was she clung to him for balance. In his confusion Glorfindel suddenly caught the scent of alcohol and his eyes winded in disbelief as everything fell into place for him. He observed the elleth in his arms and his assumption was proved correct. The queen truly did look drunk. Her eyes were half lidded and she was unable to stand properly. In this state she was far away from the distant elegant woodland queen. She was wild and yet earthly in a lovely way. Her vulnerability stirred something in the lord’s gut. She was beautiful like this; breathtakingly beautiful.

 

“Alright, alright…” he said tenderly as he pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Just walk a few steps and we’ll reach the bench…lean on me.”

Leuthil managed to nod placing her entire weigh on him as they stumbled towards the bench. The fact that she was still responsive was at least a relief. Glorfindel then gently turned her so that she was adjusted above the seat and with his arms on her shoulders he encouraged her to sit meanwhile whispering reassuring nonsense to her.

The queen sat while still holding Glorfindel’s arm and suddenly burst into a set of crazy giggles. The Balrog-slayer watched wide eyed and with a dropped jaw as tears ran down the elleth’s face from drunken laughter. The queen giggled for a long time making the lord chuckle at the scene as he sat next to her on the bench.

 

“I’m drunk!” She declared giggling madly.

 

“Yes I can see that!” Glorfindel snickered which made the queen laugh even harder. She giggled until she had no breath to do so then her attention was caught by the lord who was busy searching for something in his cloak. She followed his movements with extreme difficulty until he took a small bottle out of his cloak.

 

“Ah here it is!” he said handing it to Leuthil who was trying hard to keep her eyes focused on him. “Drink it, you’ll feel better.”

 

The queen obeyed without question and took the little bottle yet her numb fingers could not hold it and Glorfindel had to immediately grab her wrist and take the bottle ack. Tenderly he placed the glass on her lips and she tilted her head back to drink. Her lips touched his fingers and moistened his skin slightly as she drank the whole thing in one sip. The sensation on his fingers made the lord’s heart skip a few beats and he hated himself for taking advantage of the elleth that clearly needed his help. The sour taste burned its way down Leuthil’s throat and she wriggled her head in discomfort.

“What was that?!” she moaned, already feeling her dull senses sharpen.

 

“Some twisted potion Elrond makes with lemons!” Glorfindel chuckled at the faces the elleth made. “It chases away the alcohol from your system…”

 

“You carry potions around with you?!” Leuthil said and burst into laughter again but her eyes were becoming more focused and this time her giggles died down rather fast.

 

“It’s a habit!” Glorfindel shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. His eyes scanned the elleth, drinking the sight of the dark waves of her hair and her blue eyes that had watered because of her giggles. “I never thought I’d see the Woodland Queen drunk!” the lord mused loudly.

 

“Me neither!” Leuthil sighed making a cloud in front of her mouth.

 

“Are you alright?!” Glorfindel asked seriously not veiling his concern.

 

“No…” The queen shook her head. The potion had clearly cleared the false joyfulness only to make her sorrows resurface. “My best friend has lost her child, my own daughter is sick and I don’t know what’s wrong with her and my husband is ignorant about it…no, I’m not alright!”

 

“I know that king Thranduil had summoned all the healers of the realm for your child, he has also written another letter to lord Elrond…” Glorfindel said softly. Defending Thranduil was his last wish but the Balrod-slayer was not an unjust person. He really didn’t think the king was inattentive about his daughter’s sickness. The lord had seen how Thranduil loved the little baby; how he glued her to his chest and became restless when Negaar cried. He had seen how the Elvenking tried impatiently to find an answer to what ailed his daughter and he thought that the queen was being unfair. “I do not thing king Thranduil is ignoring this matter.” He finished carefully.

 

It took Leuthil a long time to answer. Her gaze drifted to a point in the air that Glorfindel could swear it did not exist and she was silent for a long time seemingly in her own thoughts. The lord was finally giving up on receiving any answers when she finally spoke.

 

“You are right…I’m being unfair!” she breathed and dropped her head. “I am the one he’s ignoring not our daughter.”

 

The words caught the lord slightly off guard. Every time that his conversation with the queen had taken the subject of Thranduil, the elleth had defended her husband. This was a strange turn of events and it surprised the lord. Glorfindel had never thought that he would ever hear this elleth complain about her life or her personal matters and issues with her husband whom she claimed to love so much.

 

The mention of Thranduil ignoring the queen elicited various emotions in the Balrog-slayer. First he felt anger. As long as he knew Leuthil was the daughter of lord Alheru; one of the influential and veteran nobles of Thranduil’s and before him Oropher’s court. Seemingly she was one of the high born ladies of the Woodland whom was loved and cherished by Greenwood. In fact one could say that the love the Silvan held for their king was partly because of their beloved queen whom they thought as one of themselves. Meanwhile this elleth’s personality made her irresistible. She was beautiful beyond compare and Glorfindel had to admire Thranduil’s good taste on that matter and she was kind, strong and loyal while incredibly sweet. The lord of the Golden Flower could not fathom how Thranduil could act cold towards her. How this was even possible. He placed his hand on Leuthil’s smaller one on her lap yet he did not feel right to ask more questions and sate his curiosity.

 

“I’m lost…” Leuthil finally sighed in the air and her voice broke.

 

Despite the anger he felt towards Thranduil for hurting this elleth there was another sensation Glorfindel was feeling that could be passed as a tingle of hope. He chastised himself for feeling this way yet if emotions could have been scared away with scolding the world would have been a different place.

He smiled so that perhaps he could make the queen happier and shook her hand for her to look at him.

 

“Well you know when I get lost; I turn around and walk back on my own footsteps until I reach my starting point…” he said merrily holding the elleth’s blue gaze. “…Then I can begin again and go another way.”

 

“You cannot go back when you’re married to the Elvenking!” Leuthil said before she could stop herself.

 

Before Glorfindel could even register what he had heard, the queen’s eyes widened and she gasped in shock of what she had said. Although she had not said it out loud but Leuthil had implicitly indicated that she indeed wished to go back. Slowly the implications of her words sank for the Balrog-slayer and left him speechless.

 

As for the queen, her hand flew to her lips as if she could gather her words and shove them back in her mouth. It seemed as if she was startled by her own words.

 

“Why did I say that?!” she gasped, talking more to herself.

 

Glorfindel had no answer for her question so he merely looked at her and waited to see the rest of her reaction to her own words. The queen then jumped from her seat as if it had stung her. With the effects of the wine slightly wiped away she managed to keep her balance. “Valar, why did I say that!?” she said frantically.

 

“It alright!” Glorfindel tried to calm her but she was far beyond the line of panic.

 

“No, it’s not alright…you don’t understand!” she exclaimed. “I shouldn’t say that!!! I love him, I love Thranduil.”

 

Glorfindel stood as well and looked at the queen who was still panicking. In spite the fact that the lord was annoyed by how she reminded him over and over of her love for the king it worried him that Leuthil seemed to be on the verge of losing her sanity over a slip of tongue, or perhaps a slip of mind.

 “I believe you…” the lord said calmly at last. His words made her stop in her panic and look up at his blue eyes and Glorfindel noted the tears of tension welling in her eyes. “But the fact that you love him does not mean that you are happy…” he finished before he could stop himself.

 

Clearly he had added fuel to the fire. She gazed at him for a while, thinking. Glorfindel could swear he could hear her mind working like a factory. Then she suddenly looked away as if she could not hold his gaze. When tears dropped from her eyes the lord cursed himself silently for what he had said.

 

“You know what?” he breathed taking both of her hands in his own. “You are right. You’re drunk and people say many things they don’t mean when they are like this!”

 

Leuthil’s doubtful eyes lifted to meet his. Her gaze was uncertain almost pleading; as if she was begging him to remove her doubts and assure her that all will be well, that she had not wrecked anything. She looked like an elfling who had done something wrong and was expecting her parent’s scolding. Glorfindel smiled warmly and drew circular patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb trying to be reassuring. Holding her hands was divine. Her palms were warm and her knuckles were soft; clearly the hands of a queen. But there was an unknown sensation in her touch that made the lord’s stomach flutter. His heart warmed when she nodded at what he had said and he was encouraged to continue.

 

“You’re much tiered because of this situation…” he said. “I think you need a break.”

 

Leuthil held his eyes but did not remark on his words. Glorfindel shifted under her blue gaze and went on with something he had wished to say for long while still holding her hands.

“My mission here in Greenwood will soon end and I will return to Imladris…” he started hesitantly. “Perhaps you can come with me there and spend sometime in the valley…a change of scenery will help you.”

 

“You know I can’t…” Leuthil said in nothing more than a whisper as she averted her gaze. “Thranduil has just moved his whole realm; I need to be by his side.”

 

“I do not think the Elvenking would mind a short trip to Rivendell…” Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and in a courageous attempt he placed his index finger under the queen’s chin and lifted her face. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “By that time Negaar would also be slightly older and you can bring her with you if your wish…” he encouraged.

 

“It seems like a nice idea…” Leuthil breathed after a long while. “It’s been a long while since last I went to the valley.”

 

Glorfindel felt a pleasant tingle of excitement at the prospect and he couldn’t help his grin. “Perhaps you could talk to the king about it…” he encouraged.

 

“Perhaps…” Leuthil whispered.

 

The Balrog-slayer felt himself drowning in those blue eyes. Time seemed to be stopping for him as he gazed at that angelic face; those flushed cheeks and lips that were bruised from cold and slightly parted to make mist in the air. He wanted so much to just lean and …

 

_“Leuthil!”_

They were both snapped from the moment by the firm voice. For a moment Glorfindel did not register who it was as he could only feel panic wash over him. They jumped immediately and looked in the direction of the ellon who had called the queen. The Balrog-Slayer was relieved to see Alheru approaching them. He would not have known what he had done if instead of the lord, the king had found them there.

 

The queen’s father walked closer to them with a hard face and a deep frown. His piercing gaze darted between his daughter and Glorfindel as he stood near them evidently displeased from the closeness of the two.

 

“Father…” Leuthil greeted slightly shrinking under her father’s hardened look despite her status as queen. Alheru could be very intimidating at times and Glorfindel feared that the elleth might be in some kind of a trouble. He had heard tales that this ellon’s wrath had not even spared Thranduil when he had been a novice soldier. Thranduil was known to be one of the greatest warriors of Middle-Earth and Alheru had been his trainer after all and that spoke for the lord’s vigor. They said he could petrify an army of thousands with a single look and definitely the rumors had not exaggerated.

 

“You smell of wine.” The lord said mater of factly eyeing his daughter and ignoring the Glorfindel. Leuthil glanced at Glorfindel before opening her mouth to explain but she was silenced by her father before she could say anything. “I’ll accompany you to your chambers…” Alheru indicated in a tone that left no room for argument.

 

Leuthil nodded immediately and took the arm her father had offered. Before leaving she turned to Glorfindel and handed the small bottle back to him. “Thank you my lord…” she said without looking him in the eye. “It truly helped.”

 

Glorfindel took the bottle and bowed his head respectfully though his heart was bursting out of his chest. He did not miss the accusing look Alheru sent his way and decided it was in his own best interest not to say anything. He watched as the lord leaded his daughter through the courtyard disappearing in the mist.

He had been caught like an adolescent who flirted around with random girls. In his long long life he had never been treated like a child before as he was now and the Balrog-Slayer had to admit that it had cost his pride too much.

***

 

The walk through the frozen courtyard and the stronghold was done in silence until father and daughter reached the royal chambers in a heavy silence. Leuthil did not know what had overcome her in those moments in the courtyard. True; she was exhausted, confused and rejected. But these were not reason enough to be pinned to the ground by the ellon’s gaze. She had seen the look in his eyes. She had seen the longing there and instead of being disgusted she felt a tingle of excitement; instead of pushing him away she had enjoyed it. The queen cursed herself for her own weakness. She was still madly in love with Thranduil; her husband, her one and only; so why was she disturbed by such sinister feelings.

 

The queen slipped her hand away from her father’s arm and walked the length of the room to reach the bedside table. Picking up the bottle she poured some water for herself and lifted the cup to her lips. She did not look up at Alheru while he closed the distance between them. She dared not look at him and see the disappointed look on his face. The heavy air the lord was making around him was almost overwhelming and the queen felt like the young elfling she once were waiting for her father’s scolding.

 

“What is wrong with you?!” Alheru asked at last.

 

“I’m fine father…” Leuthil answered almost immediately.

 

“For Valar’s sake Leuthil; you’re drunk in the afternoon!” Alheru suddenly snapped. “This is not you.”

 

“I’m sorry Ada…” the queen said firmly, this time looking her father in the eye. “I made a mistake, it won’t happen again.”

 

Alheru narrowed his eyes and scanned his daughter skeptically. “Has Thranduil hurt you!?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“No Ada…” Leuthil answered heatedly though her insides stirred by the lord’s power of perception. “Why would he hurt me?!”

 

“I do not know! You are acting strange; drinking and talking rather intimately with ellons other than your husband.” Alheru shrugged angrily. “All I know is that this is not you; and the only one who has such influence to disturb you is him!”

 

Leuthil stared at her father for a while simply thinking what to say to reassure him. He was right after all. It indeed was Thranduil the one who had evoked such feelings in her. But despite all these she smiled.

“He has not hurt me father…” she said tenderly yet firmly.

 

“Then why do you do this?” Alheru frowned. “Why do you spend your time with the Imladrian lord?’

 

“We’re friends father…” she said in a tone that was hopefully comforting but Alheru shook his head.

 

“I’ve been watching you for a while!” he said straightly. “You can fool yourself but you cannot fool me!”

 

Leuthil was left speechless. Seldom had her father rebuke her in such a way and if she had thought the reproach was over she had mistaken.

 

“Thranduil loves you Leuthil…” Alheru started. “I can see it in the way he looks at you. He would burn the world for you…he left his unruly life of unbound pleasure just because he loved you, and I admire his devotion to change for you. ” He continued. “You love him too and you know it. Do not let doubt creep into your heart iel-nin.”

The lord then took a step closer and cupped the queen’s face with his huge hands. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face he smiled.

“Despite the fact that you are my daughter I must warn you Leuthil…” he said threateningly in contrast to his gentle touch. “If you hurt Thranduil unjustly I will support him not you…”

 

Leuthil’s breath hitched from the authority of her father and the promise of those words.

“I never dream of betraying him father...” Leuthil said straightly and yet truthfully. “If that is your concern you need not worry…”

 

“I know you will not…” Alheru said gently and caressed Leuthil’s face one last time. He then walked to the door.

 

“Drink lots of water iel-nin…” he said before going out of the door. “I want no sign of your drunkenness to remain when Thranduil returns tonight.”

 

***

 

It was deep into the heart of night yet still Aleth remained awake. She had easily managed to fool Galdor into thinking she was asleep. Poor steward was so tiered that once realizing she was not awake anymore he had given in to slumber. But the princess was very much awake. Her eyes were wide open glinting into the darkness of the chamber while her weary head rested on the pillows. Galdor was silently slumbering beside her with his day clothes on and only his boots missing. She watched him and thought about how much a burden she had been to him lately. Instead of being a soothing wife she had troubled him with her issues even from before they were married. After their marriage she had even bothered him more and never had she taken a step towards the mutual happiness they both desired and hoped for.

 

The princess felt guilty for the pain she had caused her husband. Galdor had never shown anything but kindness and understanding towards her. The steward had accepted and loved her when non other would and he had never done anything but support and in return she had slipped more and more into troubles and miseries. A stinging burn started in her heart; an anger she could not control. Aleth had been worn out from her own rage in the afternoon but now again after hours passed the anger had returned to her.

 

Thranduil was the reason of her pain. She had thought for a long time and every time she recalled that day she remembered the sound of her son cry. Thranduil had told her and everybody else that her child was born dead; that her son had been _too weak to live_. Thranduil had lied; and Aleth was certain. No one had had any animosity against her baby except Thranduil and he had managed to fool her into believing that he had accepted the child. The princess cursed her own stupidity. All her life she had lived to know how prejudiced the king was and she was a fool to think Thranduil would ever accept a bastard child of rape; a half blood from a race he deemed lesser than them. She stirred restlessly as she could not rest with this pain; she could not endure the knowledge that her own brother had killed her child and therefore the princess rose and sat on her bed looking around determinedly.

 

Her eyes did not have to search long until falling on what she desired. Galdor had removed the small weapons he always carried with himself around and now his dagger rested on the small table near the fireplace. A dry smile claimed Aleth’s lips and if one would have watched he would have seen her teeth glittering in the darkness.

 

Quietly the princess lifted her legs and rose from the bed. Though the stone floor was freezing she did not feel anything as she walked to the table as if in a trance. Picking up the dagger from its leather handle she watched the lights dancing on its blade as if examining if it was suitable for what she had in mind.

 

When younger, while her father still lived she had learned a bit of fighting. Later she had become old enough to be occupied in activities more suitable for a princess but she recalled that when she used to train in the art of war she liked daggers best and it annoyed Thranduil in those times. Her brother insisted that the short blade forced her to go too close to her enemy and thus place herself in danger; but despite the prince’s reasoning still she loved daggers best. And truly Galdor’s dagger was suitable for what she wanted.

 

Quiet as a cat that had spotted a mouse for dinner she walked out of the chamber with Galdor’s dagger in hand. After almost a year in the stronghold she could easily find her way towards the royal bedchamber of her brother. She had to do this. Perhaps if she could take revenge from the culprit the pain would stop.  

 

***

 

Despite the fact that Thranduil’s study was many corridors away from his bedchamber, one needed to pass in front of it to reach the wing that housed the royal apartments. And so before entering that wing Aleth noticed the light that was coming out from under the door of the king’s office. It was strange for anyone to be awake at such an hour but Thranduil was not just any one. He worked strange hours and slept very little; a habit that he had gained after his coronation. The late hour was also probably the reason that Erhan was not guarding the door.

 

It was as if an alien force was controlling Aleth. The exhaustion, sorrow and anger she was feeling had mingled with each other and turned her heart into stone so that she could not feel anything but the desire to revenge the wrongs she thought had been done to her.  There was a faint sound coming from the room; a hum that danced through the night as if someone was whispering secrets in the heart of darkness.

 

The princess walked closer to the chamber only to realize that the door was slightly ajar and so in silence she peered through to see if Thranduil was inside. Indeed he was. She could see the king’s back with his waterfall of golden hair pouring freely on his shoulders and back with no braid to adorn it and from the angle she was looking the princess could see he was holding a bundle of blankets and she immediately realized that the king had his daughter in his arms. It was strange that Thranduil was holding Negaar in such late hour in his study instead of his bedchamber but with all the whimpers and cries the royal baby usually made it was not odd that the king had taken her to his study probably not to wake the queen. Or perhaps the father had been restless and had decided to occupy himself with his daughter instead of sleeping. She knew then that it was Thranduil’s voice she had heard as the king was whispering to the baby in his arms and while hearing his whispered nonsense Aleth’s grip on the handle of the dagger loosened.

 

“You’re so beautiful my little one…” she heard Thranduil whisper as he leaned to kiss the child. “You’re loved…so much loved…Ada love’s you; more than anything in the world, more than life…”the king shifted the baby slowly and Aleth realized the little princess was sleeping soundly. “One day you will grow and Middle-Earth would be awed by your beauty…What will happen to us then? You will not forget how much I love you, will you? Wouldn’t it be a shame that I would not be able to hold you like this anymore…?”

And again the king leaned in and kissed the baby as he pressed her more to himself. “Valar, I love you so much…” he whispered between kisses. “I love you…”

 

And then as he was rocking the baby Thranduil turned only to spot Aleth standing in his study. The princess had not realized that as she had been captured by the sight presented before her she had unconsciously walked a few steps inside the room with the dagger still in her hand. She had faltered in her task. Seeing Thranduil in that compassionate state had snapped her out of her crazy mixture of feelings and now she was feeling things she had forgotten. She remembered that the ellon in front of her was the same person she knew to be kind and loving. She recalled that her entire life she had known Thranduil to be an emotional elf; one of the main reasons Oropher had always called him weak. And she thought to herself; was it truly possible that someone capable of such extreme love towards his child was also able of killing his sister’s son?

 

If it was not for the tightened grip upon the blankets and the vein that twitched on his neck Aleth would have never known Thranduil had been startled from seeing her in his study, in the middle of the night with a dagger in her hand to kill him. He couldn’t know Aleth’s conflict and so he feared more for his daughter than for his own life. Slowly as if not wanting to provoke the princess he took a few steps back and placed the baby on the couch, then rising to his full height he came to stand before the seat to hide and thus shelter Negaar from any potential attack.

 

Aleth’s eyes found Thranduil’s and identical aquamarine orbs were tied as their gaze met. The princess felt she could explode from the rush of emotions that were boiling inside her; sorrow, hate, doubt, anger and love for the person before her. She could tell by the way Thranduil looked at her that he too was being swept with emotions but as for what those feelings were she could not fathom.

 

“Have you come to kill me?” Thranduil asked, finally breaking the silence.

 

Aleth did not answer. She could not speak because of the rock in her throat that grew within every second. Thranduil looked exhausted and thin as if he was tired of explaining himself as if he had given up.

 

“If you truly think I have killed your son then do not hesitate and drive that dagger in my heart and end this…” he said almost pleadingly. “But before you do so, look inside yourself and see if you truly think I am capable of killing a baby.”

 

Aleth did not know when the lump in her throat exploded and she dropped the dagger before her feet. Her tears streamed down her face and before she could think she ran to Thranduil who immediately opened his arms for her. He wrapped her in his protective embrace and pressed his sister to his chest. Aleth cried and as she did so she felt a weigh being lifted from her being.

 

“I’m tired Thranduil…” She sobbed, her voice muffled by the king’s robes. “I want to get better…”

 

“You will…” she heard the vibration of Thranduil’s voice on his chest. “All will be fine.”

 

Aleth did not know if Thranduil was truly innocent and there was no way she could be sure. All she knew was that she wanted to move on; she wanted to get better. The princess wanted to be happy, wanted to love her brother and her husband. She wished to have no doubt and to live. And so she decided to let go of her uncertainty and trust those around her again; trust her brother again. And if her brother was indeed guilty she trusted the Valar to judge him instead of her.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK now don’t get impatient. I know that these last chapters nothing special has happened but I’m just building up steps to reach the main event so just be patient with me please. Thanks to all for reading and special thanks to those who have taken the time to comment.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all who have read, Kudoed and moreover commented on this fic: Thank you!!! You are my only encouragement to continue this :)
> 
> To those who celebrate Nowruz or the beginning of Spring as the new year: Happy New year!!!

_My Lord Elrond;_

_I had meant to write to you sooner but moving my people north was more easily said than done. I often wonder how my father had managed to do this three times and then I find myself admiring his strength. However with all the difficulties I managed it and the role of the Imladrian troops you sent me and Lord Glorfindel cannot be denied in this success. I shall forever remain in your depth._

_I had also wanted to report to you regarding your sons. They have changed greatly. I am proud to say that they have been of great help to me in these dire times. They have become responsible young ellons and I admire their intelligence and capability. And their young malice reminds me of my younger self; which is a good thing since I sometimes forget who I used to be._

_Unfortunately I have ill news and I wish to inform you of some evil beings in the north. I had received rumors from my patrols on the northern borders that wicked signs had been spotted in the north and when I sent scouts they returned with reports of burned fields and trees cut down though the culprit is still unknown. Lord Galdor believes the answer may lie within the Grey Mountains or even Gundabad but I thought it was better to have your counsel before I take action. Therefore through this letter I invite you to my stronghold so that we may visit this desolation together and perhaps find a solution._

_I would be honored if you accept my invitation. There are other matters that I need to discuss with you in person such as the health of my daughter and of myself. Regarding her; I have paid great attention to the matter of poisoning which you mentioned. Her food is constantly checked as well as mine and the Queen’s who still feeds the princess from her breast. There is no way that she could be poisoned by food yet despite the fact that fresh air calms Negaar to some extent she keeps crying and still she suffers from time to time fevers. I am truly concerned about my daughter’s ailment and it is making me restless. Meanwhile I also have not been well recently. I have lost my stamina in a way that I fear going out of my chamber and even standing on my two feet has become a labor. I have also lost significant weigh and it scares me. Perhaps if you accept my request and come here you may find the reason and the remedy to my illness and of my daughter’s. You must understand that about the matter of my ailment I have only talked to you and I shall trust your secrecy about it._

_I look forward to your positive response to my invitation and I hope to see you soon in near future. Please do not forget that you are my only ally and the only true friend I have outside my woods; therefore I rely on your aid and counsel. May the Valar light your way and may your journey be safe in case you choose to come._

_King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great_

Elrond furrowed his brow as he read Thranduil’s letter for at least the fourth time before placing it on his desk. Despite the fact that it made him happy to hear about the success of their move, Thranduil’s letter had disturbed him.

 

First it was the matter of the north he had talked about. Thranduil had been brief and he had not opened up the details but the urgency of the news could be felt within the words and between the lines. The Peredhel was concerned. Just like the Elvenking, he had always known the darkness would return and if these were the signs the healer was not sure if he as the Lord of Imladris or anyone else as rulers of Middle-Earth were ready to face it.

 

The second news that had disturbed Elrond was about the royal family’s so called sickness. His long life as a healer had gained him many experiences and he knew for sure that elves did not get sick unless they were either poisoned or fading from grief. The princess’ case was strange in its own way; the elfling was too young to have any concept of grief or fading for that matter. He also doubted that Negaar lacked strength; it would be very improbable with all the care the princess received as Thranduil’s only child. And if her food was constantly checked for poison no other option reached the Peredhel’s ancient mind though he needed to check his books as well. So the lord rose from his seat and started skimming the shelves of his study. The books were dusty and worn out from long years of use and Elrond smirked to himself when he remembered that indeed he was older than some of these volumes.

 

There was a faint knock on the door and the lord called “enter” without turning to see who it was. He had lived long enough to know Erestor’s knock; so weak that one could hardly hear it. 

The advisor opened the door and entered soundlessly. For Elrond who was not looking at him only the swishing of his long robes on the stone floor indicated that he walked to the center of the room.

 

“Good afternoon Erestor…” Elrond greeted with his eyes still on the books.

 

“Good afternoon my lord…” the advisor said and watched as the Peredhel finally sighed and gave up on his search. “Are you looking for something in particular…?”

 

“Just something that may have an answer to my question…” Elrond said in riddles as he sat behind his desk and motioned for Erestor to do as well.

 

“…And what is that _question_ if I may ask…” the raven haired ellon said in his mysterious tone as he placed himself on the seat adjusting his long sleeves.

 

“It’s nothing…” Elrond waved his hand dismissively suddenly remembering that Thranduil did not want him to talk about it.

 

Erestor frowned and shifted on his chair. He knew better that to ask when the Peredhel did not want to share. He noted the long letter on Elrond’s desk and its broken seal. “Has the letter from Mirkwood disturbed you like this my friend?” he asked.

 

“Indeed it has…” the Lord nodded. “Thranduil has talked about foul things in the north…he has asked me to go there. He sounds concerned and I know better than to ignore his worries; he has proved to be a smart one in these years.”

 

“Will you go then?” Erestor asked directly.

 

“I believe I should…” Elrond nodded rubbing his chin but then he frowned seeing Erestor’s reaction. The advisor had turned his head away and looked away from him glaring at the window as if it had insulted him. “What’s wrong?” the Lord asked.

 

“The Elvenking is taking all of you away one by one…first Glorfindel, now you!” Erestor snapped suddenly turning to glare at the Peredhel with dark eyes. “I have said many times and I’ll say it again; _why are his problems any of our concern_?”

 

“He’s our ally.” Elrond reasoned calmly.

 

“An alliance is two sided…” Erestor started harshly as he leaned in. “In your twisted friendship, you are the constant giver and he is the taker…Not to mention that he lives in a creepy forest, miles away behind the Misty Mountains and that makes any alliance with him entirely useless.”

 

“There will come time when Thranduil will settle his depths with me…” Elrond said knowingly as he stood indicating the end of discussion.

 

“It seems that nothing I say would change your mind!” Erestor huffed out and stood as well, crossing his arms on his chest. “I do not even know why you need me as an advisor…?”

 

The Peredhel smiled warmly at Erestor’s annoyance yet he chose not to comment on it. The advisor was not normally this cranky but recently for some reason he had become grumpy.

 

“Make the provisions of my journey to Greenwood ready…I shall leave in two days.” He said softly.

 

Erestor merely nodded and at the same time rolled his eyes, a gesture that the Peredhel had learned to associate with the advisor but did not have any idea how it was done. The Lord smiled again before circling his desk and pacing the length of the room to leave. He had to go to the library; the answers often lay there in rotten scrolls and books covered with spider webs. But before he could walk out he heard Erestor call him.

 

The Peredhel turned to see the advisor standing there with his face towards the window looking out at the scenery but seemingly not seeing it. There was a faraway regretful look in his eyes that concerned the healer. Then the ellon blinked and turned his face towards his Lord before dropping his gaze in an uncharacteristic shy manner.  

 

“Erestor…?” Elrond called. “Is something wrong?”

 

The advisor shifted uncomfortably and took in a deep breath as if he could not have enough air.

“If you saw Glorfindel there…will you…would you…tell…” he stammered and his voice faded.

 

“What do you wish for me to tell him?” Elrond asked patiently.

 

Erestor shifted his weigh from one foot to the other under impossible layers of fabric. His hand went to his dark hair and he shoved it behind his pointy ear just as he always did when he was nervous. Meanwhile the Peredhel watched amusedly.

 

“Just…just tell him that he’s missed…much missed.” Erestor finally said and his color turned to a dark shade of red.

 

“I will…” Elrond nodded gravely before walking out of the study deeply in thought.

 

***

 

When she didn’t cry on the top of her lungs, Negaar had proven to be a very satisfying baby. Her head was now covered with soft dark hair and favorable of dark haired elleths, Thranduil was very satisfied about this event. The princess looked up at them with wide aquamarine eyes that were exactly like her father’s. She was alright with her maids and liked it when the Queen wrapped her in soft blankets; also she enjoyed Aleth as her aunt was usually the one who played with her and made her giggle tickling her stomach. But most of all she loved it when Thranduil paid attention to her. In her father’s arms she would remain unmoving for hours while Thranduil spoke to her. Sometimes he talked about the events of the day, sometimes he told her stories but often it was just bunch nonsense. But to all of these Negaar listened carefully as if she could understand each word and she looked up at him with intelligence that was sometimes scary. Strangely it was after these times with her father that the cursed fevers visited the little princess. Leuthil had noted this but she had overlooked it as her own twisted thoughts and her own anger towards the king for his neglect towards herself.

 

The Queen could not believe that this wailing baby in her arms was the same sweet elfling she had been holding an hour ago. Her small mouth was open wide and her eyes were closed shut in extreme weeping and the commotion was almost making Leuthil panic. The child’s temperature was a bit high so the Queen had given the medicine the healers had prescribed and now she was waiting for its effects. Although the healers had found potions to overcome the strange fever their remedies were merely temporary and it concerned Leuthil. After six months no one actually knew what was wrong with the princess and the Queen doubted that any of the healers would withhold any probable remedy in case they found one; especially after being subject to Thranduil’s well-known outbursts a few times. Leuthil had been witness to the king’s explosions many times before and yet the Queen had to admit that in all these years she had not seen such a rage from him like the one he showed towards the healers who had disappointed him. Negaar had such an effect on him and the fact warmed Leuthil’s heart but she could not suppress the sorrow she felt; once Thranduil had loved her with the same burning passion and yet the flames seemed to have died out now.

 

The door to the chamber opened after a short knock and the Queen sighed in relief when she saw Aleth enter. The princess was slightly better after a while passing from the death of her son. She busied herself with the affairs of the stronghold. The princess controlled the social aids and supervised as the teams helped the people to settle in their new home. She had sold her jewelry and used the wealth and her influence to found many orphanages and aid centers in different districts of the underground city which had gained her much popularity. She also helped Leuthil with the household. Running the sewing workshops, the purchase of goods, the affairs of the servants and many other things that were originally the Queen’s responsibilities were now done by Aleth and Leuthil allowed her to do so.

 

From the first days that she had befriended Aleth as elflings they had been different. Although from a noble family Leuthil was a normal wood-elf. She learned lady like lessons in the court yet she also worked like every other Sivan girl; she climbed the trees, did gardening, sewed clothes to sell them in the market and cleaned her own horse. After her mother’s departure she was forced to help her father more and so the elleth had become strong. Yet Aleth used to lead a very different life. Unlike her brother who had seen the horrors of Doriath and had endured years of hardship before settling in Greenwood, the princess was born when her father was already king. Being her father’s only daughter she was protected and cherished beyond any treasure and being Thranduil’s younger sister made the prince treat her like a doll made of crystal. She never knew sorrow until her father died and she had never felt real pain until recently. The princess never knew how much her life was being driven by the males in her family until lately.  The recent events and the tragedies that befell Aleth had become a trigger and the Queen could see that the princess wished to start anew and coming out of her shell and taking responsibilities were the first steps towards ruling her own life. Even now she could see Aleth forming a stronger character and Leuthil admired her strength since it was ever easy to change one’s habits after so many years.

 

The princess closed the door and approached the bed to sit next to her friend who was holding the baby. Negaar kept whimpering and Aleth glanced at the Queen knowingly before caressing the baby’s soft head.

 

“She’s restless again…” she noted.

 

To that Leuthil merely nodded as she rocked her daughter slightly in a hope that the movement would calm her. Aleth observed the Queen and judged her very tiered so she stretched her arms and motioned for Leuthil to pass the baby to her. The elleth did as asked and soon Negaar was in her aunt’s arms and this time Aleth started swaying her and singing a faint song. Leuthil sighed and covered her face with her hands. The concern was truly overwhelming her.

 

Aleth watched Leuthil as she swayed the baby slowly. She was worried as well. Negaar had become hope for all of them specially her. Busying herself with the little princess was one of the reason’s Aleth had been able to overcome her grief over her own child. Seeing the baby cry like this stirred her heart but watching Leuthil and Thranduil’s desperation was even harder. In her arms the baby slightly calmed and listening to her aunt sing she slowly fell asleep after a long while exhausted from the fuss she had made.

 

“The healers have still found nothing, have they?!” Aleth asked softly.

 

“No…” Leuthil shook her head as she dropped her hands form her face. “Thranduil has sent another letter to Lord Elrond asking him to come here and examine Negaar personally.”

 

“He’s the best healer in Middle-Earth…” the princess said hopefully. “Perhaps he’ll find a remedy.”

 

“Perhaps…” the Queen sighed despairingly.

 

A thought crossed Aleth’s mind for a second. She opened her mouth to express it but closed it immediately biting her lower lip as if punishing herself for something. These facial expressions did not go unnoticed by Leuthil. “What is it?” she asked.

 

“Nothing!” the princess said averting her gaze while fussing with the blanket around the baby.

 

“Tell me!” the Queen pressed siting up straight. Aleth looked up at her doubtfully, not trusting the reaction she might get from her friend but she knew Leuthil enough to know that the Queen would not drop the subject so easily.  

 

“Maybe we can go to a prescient …” Aleth suggested doubtfully. “They sometimes say helpful things.”

 

Leuthil raised her eyebrows. She had never been in a position to use any of such people so she really didn’t know if she believed in them. As a child she always remembered her father cursing these people and calling them charlatans. The Queen didn’t think it would do any harm but again she was to tiered and desperate to listen to a fraud say nonsense to her.

 

“Do you know anyone?!” she asked Aleth who seemed surprised by Leuthil’s calm. Probably Aleth had expected some sort of scolding for her suggestion. The Silvan were normally superstitious people but she had never known Leuthil to be one.

 

“Well yes…” the princess shrugged and tilted her head not sure where to begin with. “There was this elleth; Bannen. She had some kind of powers of perception and used to say thing that always turned out true, mostly she advised people accordingly. She used to come and go a lot in the palace; all the ladies of the court were her clients.” Then Aleth leaned in and whispered the rest of her words as if there was someone eavesdropping on them. “She once told my mother that she will have no more children after me, and it made my mother really sad. Seeing my mother had become upset from her words my father banned the elleth from coming to the palace ever again.”

 

Leuthil frowned as Aleth sat straighter as if she was proud to know such a person. It reminded Leuthil of their childhood; when the princess bragged about everything she always sat straight “But what she said was true anyway, whether my mother liked it or not!” the princess said shrugging after a while.

 

The Queen sank deeply in thought. In a normal circumstance she would laugh at these things but now she was not so sure. She was willing to test anything and knock on every door for help if that meant an answer to her questions.

“Where can we find this elleth?” she finally asked.

 

“I heard that she travelled up north with us…” Aleth’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “They say she has a house down in the market and has made a fanfare for herself…I can find her if you want to.”

 

“Find her…” Leuthil said finally. “Let’s see what she has to say…”

 

***

 

“Erhan…!”

 

The sentry stopped walking when he heard the Queen call her. He turned towards her and bowed deeply at the elleth who was approaching him from the end of the corridor.

 

“My lady…” he greeted as Leuthil stood before him. “His majesty is in the council meeting…”

 

“I’m not looking for The King …” the Queen corrected dryly making the sentry look up at her curiously.

 

“Then forgive me your highness…” he said humbly. “What can I do for you?!”

 

Leuthil’s blue eyes scanned the young ellon in front of her like someone buying a horse. The sentry knew that the Queen probably had a job she needed to be done and was judging if he was reliable. His assumption was not wrong.

 

“I noticed that my husband has given you a few days off…” She started.

 

“That’s true my Lady…” Erhan nodded.

 

“I was wondering if you could lend me half of a day Erhan…” the Queen asked sweetly. “Of course I understand if you do not wish to waste your vacant time like this…”

 

“I have nothing to do during this free time my Lady…” the sentry interrupted with a smile. “What can I do for you?”

 

Leuthil grinned at that and her eyes sparkled. “Princess Aleth and I would like to visit someone down at the Market tomorrow…” she explained. “I wish for you to come with us.”

 

Erhan frowned slightly. “Does the king know about this my Lady?” he asked.

 

Leuthil’s smile faltered and she raised her eyebrows. “Thranduil is not very fond of this person we ought to visit…but you shall not worry, she is an old friend of the Princess.” The Queen explained.

 

Erhan shifted his weigh from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Clearly he did not wish to do anything behind the king’s back. “My Lady…the Market is very crowded and protecting you would not be easy…” the sentry said uneasily. “I don’t think King Thranduil would appreciate me doing this…!”

 

Leuthil clenched her jaw and huffed out the air clearly annoyed by the guard’s defiance. “I thought as the head of my husband’s sentries you are the safest person to go with…” the Queen said bitterly. “But if you do not have the heart to come with us then I guess we should go alone!”

The elleth then turned on her hills her hair swishing in the air as she walked away.

 

The poor sentry watched the Queen’s back cursing this situation. If he were to go with the two elleths without the king knowing he would be defying the king. If he stayed behind the two would go unprotected and if something happened he would never forgive himself.

 

“My Lady!” he called out finally before the Queen could turn on the last corner. With her back on the guard he could not see the victorious smirk on the elleth’s face that she wiped off before turning towards the approaching guard with an expectant look.

 

“Have you changed your mind?!” Leuthil asked raising her eyebrows.

 

“I will accompany you my lady…” he said. “But please if the king asked anything do not tell him that I did so…”

 

“He would hear nothing…” Leuthil assured. “And even if he would, I’ll tell him that we saw you in the Market accidentally…it is your day off anyway!” the Queen winked.

 

Erhand shook his head at the Queen’s mischievous grin and smiled knowingly. Leuthil then turned and walked away as the sentry bowed to her.

He remained in the corridor for a while probably thinking about what he was supposed to do or take with him tomorrow. And then he too walked away.

Neither of them saw Miklovand who was hidden in the shadow of the pillars.     

 

***

 

Hafez glanced at the pitiful form of the king that was lying on the bed. When the sentry had come to him earlier that morning asking him to come and visit the king in his private chamber without drawing attention the healer had known that Thranduil’s condition had probably worsened. He was proven right when he had entered the royal chambers.

 

The king had been there lying on his side in a tight ball and shivering slightly. He didn’t even raise his head to greet the healer but merely opened his eyelids a little to look up at him with aquamarine eyes that radiated nothing but pain. “Hafez…” he had murmured. “Please, stop this pain…”

 

It had been hard to learn what exactly was bothering the Elvenking since he seemed not able to talk properly due to extreme agony. What the healer had at last obtained was that Thranduil was in grave pain and that his entire body seemed to hurt. Hafez had tried various notions. He had fed the king different teas that had tranquilizing and painkilling affects but none seemed to work.  The worse was that he refused Hafez’s request to tell someone about this. He even declined telling any other healer.

 

Now Hafez just stood there and watched the king, still curling on the bed and moaning from pain. He was now covered in cold sweat and shaking, clenching his jaw to stop the whimpers that escaped him. The only temporal remedy that reached the healer’s mind was resting in his box but he couldn’t gather the courage to use it. Thranduil was in great pain but Hafez feared the grave consequences of the medicine.

 

“Hafez do something…” Thranduil suddenly barked as his body twisted when another wave of pain hit him. “Please…”

 

“M…my lord…” the healer said doubtfully. “I’ve tried everything…except…opium…”

 

“Use it…” the king moaned pressing his face to the pillows to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes.

 

“But my lord…” Hafez said desperately. “It might cause other effects…”

 

“I said use it…” Thranduil almost screamed raising his head to glare at the healer, all the veins on his face visible from extreme pain.

 

Hafez hesitated no longer. He went to his box and immediately took out the small black bottle containing the opium saps. He decided that having the king drink the potion would be perhaps too much so he immediately took out a clean piece of cloth and moistened it with a few drops of the liquid.

 

“Come my king…” he said tenderly as he approached Thranduil and helped him lift his head from the pillows holding his damp hair away from his face. The healer then gently covered the king’s nose and mouth with the cloth. “Breathe…”

 

It took only a few breaths until Hafez visibly saw his patient calm. The rapid breathing took a slower pace and he released himself from the tight ball he had made with his body, his limbs relaxing on the mattress. Slowly the healer removed the cloth and helped the king place his head back on the pillow.

 

“You’ll feel better now my Lord…” he said softly as he arrange Thranduil’s numb limbs and pulled the light blanket up on him.

 

Thranduil was still awake. His body still hurt but the pain seemed vague as if he was feeling it through a filter. He didn’t have the strength to move any of his muscles and even keeping his eyes open was becoming a burden as the whole room was circling around him. He felt detached from his body as if he was floating in the air. Slowly his eyes lost focus and he gave in to his heavy eyelids allowing them to close and consume him in blackness…perhaps in a few hours he would wake without pain, perhaps he would feel better for a while. 

 

***

 

The underground city was built in levels and it was a true masterpiece of architecture. Leuthil had seen many parts of the stronghold but the Queen had to admit that she had missed a great deal before descending to the lower levels and entering the grand Market.

 

A hugged branch that had been twisted to make an arch indicated the entrance to the Market. Leuthil did not even know how they had managed to make trees and plants grow from the heart of rocks. Some said it was the grace of the Valar, others had rumored that the Elvenking had used certain magic to do so; it would not have surprised the Queen as she no longer understood Thranduil’s antics anymore. After the great arch the Market stood proud taking their breath away. Tall pillars were carved out of stones to separate the alley that went through the market. The stone road was surrounded by shops and stalls on both sides. The main alley was the place where food and crops were sold; there were narrower branches from the main road that was where other goods were located. The alleys were organized in a way that each type of product or service was offered in a different section of the Market and the Queen had to admire Galdor as the hand of the king for his success in organizing the chaotic bazaar of Amon Lanc. Of course the new order had not meddled in the affairs of the peddlers who were the soul of the Market and walked with their carts and sold delicious refreshments to purchasers and vendors.

 

The two elleths were dressed as commoners walking down the alleys. Erhan had insisted on bringing two other guards and as the sentry, also clad in a civilian robe walked in front of them, the other two followed them with a distance. While Erhan was blowing his head off with stress the princess and the Queen were enjoying themselves greatly. They observed the stores, giggled down the alleys and played with the elflings that approached them. They even stopped to by eat some unhealthy food in the way. The Queen felt refreshed. If nothing this visit to the Market had made her forget about her worries and doubts for a while and she was grateful.

 

Aleth had somehow found the prescient’s address and as they approached the district they sensed the reduction of the people around them. The princess had also learned that the foreteller’s house was located where the taverns and therefore whorehouses were. They passed a few narrow and complicated backstreets. This part of the Market was not as crowded and the shops were fewer. They saw strange things there; the shops sold what seemed to be the tools of witchcraft and the people looked somehow different as well. They walked down a narrow road. On this road the houses of one side were connected to the other side with wooden bridges on their roofs. Leuthil noted one particular bridge that was loaded with huge pieces of rock and she wondered if the fragile looking bond was trustable to hold such a weight however she dared not question the strength of elvish ropes. Erhan led them towards a narrow dead end and glanced at the number of a wooden house.

 

“It’s here…” he announced as he turned towards them and eyed Aleth doubtfully. “My lady are you sure this is safe!”

 

Aleth rolled her eyes and did not even bother to answer his question for the thousandth time.

“Wait outside…” she waved her hand as she approached the door and knocked. “We won’t be long.”

 

Erhan nodded with concern visible in his eyes. But he chose not to say anything as he stood back. They waited a few moments until the door of the house opened and an elleth showed up in the doorframe.

 

“Good morning my lady…” She greeted Aleth with a smile and stepped aside. “Please come in.”

 

They stepped into the dim house. It was a two story building all made of dark wood. The staircase that led to the second floor was dark and rather creepy and the whole place created gooseflesh on Leuthil’s skin. She turned as she hear the elleth close the door behind them.

 

Observing the girl the Queen noted how incredibly thin she was. She had long red hair that hung to her waist and the many bracelets on her wrists jingled with every slight movement of her hand. She turned and smiled at them eyeing them with piercing black eyes.

 

“My mother will receive you in a moment…” she explained and walked passed them to go upstairs.

 

When the sound of her steps on the wood faded Leuthil turned to see if Aleth reflected her own weird sensation. The Princess looked back at her with raised eyebrows as if challenging her to complain about anything and the expression made the Queen chuckle. She felt like those times they sat together and told ghost stories when they were elflings.

 

The two elleths turned their heads as they saw the girl descending the steps again. She walked to them and gestured for them to go up the stairs. “My mother is ready for you…”

 

Exchanging a meaningful gaze they nodded. Aleth walked before Leuthil climbing up the creepy steps as the wooden floor squeaked under their feet. The staircase took a sharp turn and then a wooden door appeared to them. Aleth raised her hand and knocked.

 

“Come in…” a voice came. The princess turned the metal handle and opened the door. Leuthil was surprised to hear the sharp noise of the door as if it was a hundred years old since everything in the stronghold was supposed to be new. But all those thoughts were forgotten as they entered the dim room. Though it was morning the room was almost completely dark. Except for a large round table and three chairs around it the chamber was empty. An elleth was sat behind the table. Her long black hair was straight around her bony face and her eyes were grey. Seeing the glassy look on her eyes Leuthil immediately knew that the elleth was blind. Surprised from this new information she gave a look to Aleth who confirmed her assumption with a nod.

 

“Your Grace…” the elleth greeted them looking at a point between Aleth and the wall. “It’s been a long while!”

 

“Indeed Lady Bannen…” Aleth said. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

At that the lady merely smiled and her glassy eyes moved towards Leuthil halting somewhere on her shoulder. “Welcome to my humble house your Highness…” she said in a strange tone.

 

“Thank you…” the Queen answered surprised that the elleth already knew who she was despite the fact that she was blind and could not see her.

 

“Please take a seat my ladies…” Bannen said pointing at the other two seats.

 

The royal ladies did as they were bid and sat on the chairs. Feeling their closeness the elleth’s eyes lifted to somewhere between them as she spoke. “How may I be of service?”

 

“The Queen and I are both passing hard times…” Aleth started. “We wished to have your advice…”

 

Bannen nodded as she shifted on her seat. Her dull eyes moved slightly and Leuthil noted her pupils shrink as if seeing something frightening which was strange since the elleth was blind. Her body was turned towards Aleth and she was now looking at a spot above the princess’s head.

 

“You’ve faced a great loss…” she finally said mater-of-factly.

 

“Yes…” Aleth whispered though it was not a question.

 

“You’ve accused your brother for it!” the elleth said and her eyebrows shoot up. This time Aleth merely dropped her gaze but said nothing. Bannen was silent for a few moments after that statement as if calculating what she wanted to say. Her eyes moved slightly before she spoke again. “You best not look for the culprit or linger in sorrow for you are all better off without that child among you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Aleth snapped angry that her dead child was mentioned with such low regard.

 

“Some losses, hard as they are, will be in everyone’s best interest…” Bannen said firmly.

 

Aleth opened her mouth as if to argue but not finding her words she closed it again and huffed out. Sensing her tension the elleth blindly searched for her hand and took it in her own. Then to their great surprise her grey orbs moved to look at Aleth straight in the eye.

“ _Everyone_ will see the result for their actions…everyone will pay for their sins.” Bannen said in a tone that sent a shiver through their bodies.

 

She released Aleth’s hands and sat back. There were a hundred questions that the Princess had wanted to ask but so shaken she was from her words that she forgot the rest. When the elleth turned from her the princess finally blurted out. “Will I ever have a child again…?”

 

“I cannot tell…for there are mysteries that are veiled even to me…” Bannen said mysteriously. “Yet I can tell you that there will come a time when you shall choose between two people whom you love most…when that moment comes, make sure that you choose wisely.”

 

While Aleth’s breath was caught in her throat the elleth turned towards Leuthil gazing somewhere above her head just as she had done with Aleth. There was something in her look that disturbed the Queen and yet she could not name what it was. She suddenly wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear what the creepy elleth had to say. Bannen was silent for a long while watching the same spot with unfocused eyes. The entire time the room was in a dead silence and neither Leuthil nor the princess moved a muscle. The wait became too long and Leuthil was becoming impatient. She had almost given up on hearing anything when Bannen finally spoke.

“You are like a thirsty man in a desert who does not know he is carrying a skin of cold water with him…” she said. “You desperately look for love, while you have it in your grasp… while you seek beautiful flowers; your own exotic flower is withering and fading in front of your eyes yet you fail to see it…” the elleth continued in a regretful tone. “Do not take anything for granted for you might lose it…”

 

Bannen’s words were caught off with sounds coming from outside the two story building. There were sounds of people; a crowd of people gathering which took the attention of the occupants of the room making them raise their heads and frown.

Their confusion did not last long when they heard heavy footsteps climbing the steps before the door burst open and Erhan appeared.

“My ladies we need go now!” he panted.

 

“What’s wrong?” Aleth asked turning on her seat to see the sentry.

 

“A huge crowd had gathered in the alley…” Erhan explained frantically. “I don’t know how but they know you’re here. They’ve gathered to have a glimpse of you at least.”

 

The Queen and Aleth exchanged a horrified look yet they did not move a muscle as if they were glued to their chairs. “Please my ladies, we need to go!” Erhand begged. “It’s not safe anymore…”

 

Aleth gathered her senses first and pulled out a small bag of coins and placed it on the table as they both rose. “Thank you…” she said and both elleths walked to the door fast.

 

“Your Highness…” Bannen called Leuthil before they could exit the room. The Queen turned to see the blind elleth staring at one of the walls on her right. “Watch for the sky…” she said.

 

Leuthil did not understand the meaning of her words and it annoyed her to great extent. She wanted to ask but Erhan’s hand on her back that pushed her towards the stairs did not allow her to do so.

 

***

 

When the door of the house opened and they stepped outside behind Erhand their breaths hitched in their throats by seeing the crowd gathered in front of the building. Many were there from different classes and different ages. As Erhan had rightly assumed they had gathered to have a glimpse of the Elvenking’s womenfolk who did not appear in the streets so often; not to mention in this part of the Market.

 

The other two sentries had drawn their swords to push the crowd back enough for them to pass and the task was proving to be a fruitless struggle. At last they had to step into the crowd. The Queen hoped that if they reached the main alley the crowd might scatter or perhaps they could go inside a shop until the excitement died. But even moving a single foot through the people looked impossible.

 

Erhan pushed the elves to open their way shouting instructions at the top of his lungs yet he couldn’t be heard above the commotion. After a wave of people hitting them and their force threatening to separate them Aleth instinctively grabbed Leuthil’s arm to avoid being parted. With the sentries’ great struggle and their threatening sharp blades they managed to turn on the corner with baby steps where they got stuck in another group of excited people under the shadow of the wooden bridges that held the large stones in place.

 

Erhan could no longer shelter them from the fuss and the people who were excitedly standing on tiptoes to look at them. He was being pushed away from them just like the other three guards. The crowd seemed not to feel that they were scaring the royal ladies as they closed in on them with excited and happy faces. Leuthil felt her chest being pressed and she could not breathe from fear of the enthusiastic people. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky to breathe just when she heard a loud noise and the ground and walls rattled. Her eyes snapped open only to see the bridge above their head missing and gigantic rocks falling from the sky on them like rain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very appreciated :)
> 
> The idea of Erestor/Glorfindel came to my mind from the Induration series by my friend Morierblackleaf and it belongs to him... :)


	59. Chapter 59

Erhan’s brown eyes widened with terror while he watched as if in slow motion the huge rocks that fell from the broken bridge. A cold shiver ran down his spine and his body went rigid from the sight of stones raining on the royal ladies and the excited people around them. In that helplessness only his sharp reflexes developed by years of training as a soldier came to his aid as he instinctively dived for those who had trusted him with their lives. Meanwhile his numb mind lingered about what the King would think if his most trusted sentry would fail to save his wife and sister.

 

He saw as the Princess found her impulses faster than the Queen as she grabbed Leuthil’s arm, pushing her sideway with her entire weigh making herself victim of one of the stones. Erhan was not sure if the Princess had predicted this. The guard did not know how he reached them over the many heads that were between him and the two. All he knew was that suddenly somehow he was beside them pulling them away while trying to cover the ladies with his taller form.

 

All these happened in less than a moment and when the first rock hit the sentry’s back his breath twisted in his throat. Yet it did not sway him from pulling the ladies further. They hit the stone wall of the alley, their backs bent by the weight of the guard behind them as the flood of rocks and stone fell over the three and the screaming people around them who ran for shelter like ants trapped in a spring rain.

 

Many pieces of rubble fell on Erhan’s back but when the last huge rock fell on them with the remaining of the bridge, the sentry’s strength broke and he was pushed forward by the power of the hit letting out a muffled groan as the three collapsed on the floor of the Market.

 

***

 

Miklovand shifted his weigh from one foot to the other as he watched Thranduil sitting on his throne of antlers while reading the report the captain had handed him. He remembered Thranduil to be a fine designer from an early age and had to admit that the throne which designed personally by the King was indeed glorious, yet Miklovand could not help but notice how thin and weak the owner of it looked. Through Thranduil tried to look as perfect as ever with his back straight and long legs crossed, his face was sickeningly thin, lacking the light of the Eldar.

 

The captain’s lips twitched in something that could have been a smirk if he had not stopped himself. He had to congratulate Morey on the perfect poison. The effects of it were finally showing and though the wait for it had been long it had been well worth it. In his life the Captain had seen many elves fade from grief or merely because they were tiered of Arda and could not get themselves to sail. Thranduil definitely looked like one of them. If his schemes would turn out right and the Queen would be killed today it would be a booster to Thranduil’s fading. The throne of antlers was not so far from Miklovand after all. Once the King was dead he would be the first in the line of succession, since the King had no son and Aleth was also an elleth while Miklovand was the only person other than Thranduil who was called ‘son’ by Oropher.

 

The King shifted on his seat slightly as his eyes ran right and left following the lines and Miklovand waited patiently. The king paid great attention to the army ever since the forest had fallen into darkness and so he studied the related reports very carefully. The captain admired Thranduil’s caution in military matters despite his hatred; though he would never admit it.

 

Just as the King finally lifted his eyes from the report the doors of the throne room were pushed open and Holgailion burst inside. Thranduil frowned as he watched the lord approach but knew better than to question this abrupt intrusion. Due to his many years in the court Holgailion was well aware of the manners of the palace and there was no need to remind him and from the air around him the King knew something foul had happened and already his heart was beating faster.

 

Holgailion rushed to his side and leaned to whisper in his ear. Miklovand watched them standing before the throne patiently. He did not hear what the lord whispered in the King’s ear but noted how all color left Thranduil’s already pale face and his aquamarine eyes widened in what could be called pure horror.

 

The Captain was not surprised when Thranduil jumped from his seat as if it had poked him. The report fell from his loose grip and danced in the air until it landed at the foot of the throne. The King did not wait to give any explanation or order as he ran down the stairs and rushed out of the throne room as swiftly as he could. Holgailion followed him. This time Miklovand smirked clearly as there was no one in there to see or judge him. The Captain approached the throne with lazy steps and with a sigh bent down to pick up the report that was resting on the stairs. Soon he would climb those steps and sit on that marvelous throne.  

 

***

 

“Do you have any idea how serious this is?!”

 

Thranduil’s scream made the three other occupants of the room jump for at least the tenth time in the last minutes. Negaar immediately started wailing from her father’s loud voice and Aleth who had been petrified from Thranduil’s wrath resumed swaying the baby in his arms. Leuthil gave her an appreciative look before she pressed her eyes closed when Thranduil started yelling like a mad lion again.

 

“What were you thinking?!!” he screamed. “You could have been hurt…you could have been killed.”

He started pacing the chamber back and forth clawing in his tangled hair in anger, frustration and fear. When he first walked into this private healing chamber he had assumed the worst. Relief had washed over him when he had seen that Leuthil and Aleth were at least alive. He did not find true rest from his worry until after the healer’s had checked the elleths head to toe and had found nothing but subtle bruises and numerous scratches. Aleth’s face was scratched on the walls of the alley making an ugly yet subtle injury and Leuthil’s arms and legs were bruised badly. However the injuries were not fatal and after making sure of that the King had found time to become angry.

 

Aleth shot Galdor a pleading look, begging silently for him to interfere and soothe Thranduil’s wrath which was threatening to blow them away like a storm but the steward who was standing in a corner leaning on the wall shook his head and looked away; silently telling them that they deserved every single ounce of what Thranduil was giving them.

 

“I will kill Erhan for this!” the King growled.

 

“Thranduil it’s not his fault…” Leuthil said weakly. “We ran into him when we were in the Market and...”

 

“Do I look like a pigeon to you?!” Thranduil hissed as he abruptly turned towards the Queen who wished she could slip under the blankets on the bed she was sitting on so that perhaps she could shelter herself from her husband’s flaming anger. In that moment Thranduil looked more like a burning dragon and definitely not a pigeon. “I know you have swayed the poor sentry to follow you there!”

 

He then straightened his back and glared at Aleth who had finally succeeded in calming the baby. “And one does not need to be a genius to know what you were doing in the worst district of the Market.” He said with his fore finger shaking at his sister threateningly as his eyes burned Aleth’s bones. “I know what foul thing lays there!”

 

Leuthil exchanged a meaningful look with her friend. Neither of them had predicted Thranduil to read their schemes so easily. It somehow made them feel stupid.

“You risk our family’s reputation and your own lives to visit this…this…this _charlatan_!” Thranduil said in a disappointed tone. “Did you not think about what my subjects would think seeing the King’s wife and sister where only prostitutes and witches go? Not to mention you go with almost no one to protect you properly. I just can’t believe it…”

 

The Queen dropped her gaze apologetically. She knew they had done a stupid thing from the beginning but truly no one could have predicted it would turn out like this. Not every day a bunch of rubble falls from the sky of the Market. Her eyes turned to Aleth who was looking at the King eye to eye. She looked dirty and tired with that unpleasant scratch but despite this she kept her head up and defended their silly action. And this was what fueled Thranduil’s rage.

 

“What would I have done if something had happened to you?!” the King continued in a tone that was more desperate than angered.

 

“Fortunately no one has been hurt…” the Steward finally interfered seemingly taking pity on the Queen and the Princess. “I’m sure that this will never happen again…” he told Thranduil firmly.

 

Leuthil and Aleth felt like elflings as they nodded enthusiastically but they both appreciated the steward’s meddling. Thranduil scowled at them for long moments. Their bruised faces and arms and disarrayed appearance broke his heart but then he sighed sitting on the bed next to Leuthil.

 

When Holgailion had told him the news every horrible scenario had played in his mind. Fear of losing those whom he love most had nearly overwhelmed him and even now the rush of relief was too much for his weakened soul.

 

“It’s ironic…” he said covering his face with his hands. “I rule the Great Greenwood yet I fail to subdue my own household.”

 

The elleths dared to lough lightly at that and consider themselves slightly forgiven. Thranduil felt Leuthil shift closed to him just as Aleth placed the baby back on her bed and sat on his other side. Both elleths looked at him with false innocence and the look on their eyes made him smirk despite the situation as he wrapped his arms around them. The other two snugged closer.

 

“Well, now that I’ve made sure he doesn’t murder you, I should go see who is behind this event” Galdor said giving Aleth a _we will talk about this later_ look before he walked out of the door.

 

A few moments passed in silence before Thranduil released his wife and sister and rose to his feet. Leuthil noted his slumped shoulders and defeated composure yet she did not know why it was such. Though the incident was horrible they had been very lucky. Considering that huge crowd that had gathered there, it was almost a miracle that no one had been hurt.

 

“I should go visit Erhan as well…” he sighed rubbing his eyes.

 

Leuthil stood as well and walked towards him. Now that his flames had died down she dared to approach him with a smile. He looked down at her with tiered eyes as Aleth busied herself with Negaar trying not to intrude the private moment Leuthil had suddenly created. “Dine with me tonight…” she whispered in the King’s ear seductively. “I shall make it up to you…”

 

 Thranduil knew well the implications behind her words; the promise of a passionate night after a shared dinner. Seductive as the suggestion was he was not ready for it. The fear of disappointing her with his weakened state and the concern for all to know on what a thin line he was walking would not allow him to do this. The King gazed at his wife for a while before he answered. “I can’t dear…” he said softly. “I have much to do…” then he placed a chaste kiss on her temple before he smiled at Aleth and walked out of the door.

 

Leuthil merely stood on her spot staring at the door before she heard Aleth behind her. “Did I just see you get rejected?!” the princess gasped.

 

“You just did!” the Queen said icily as she tried to busy herself with picking up her baby.

 

“You don’t look surprised!” Aleth frowned.

 

“It’s not the first time…” Leuthil said her words choking as tears started to overwhelm her. “In fact he has not touched me since before Negaar was born…”

 

Aleth’s jaw dropped open. The Elvenking’s love for Leuthil was legendary throughout Middle-Earth, it was the subject of envy and wonders and what the Queen said was almost unbelievable. But Aleth could not think of a reason why the elleth should lie. She knew how horrible it was for an elleth to admit her husband did not desire her; how broken her pride was. It must have wearied Leuthil to great extent for the Queen to confess this.

 

“Have you tried talking to him?” the Princess asked.

 

“There is nothing to say…” Leuthil shrugged. “His love has died, that’s all.”

 

“That’s not true…” Aleth snapped. She approached her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. “My brother loves you and nothing can change that. Talk to him and I know you can solve this.”

 

“Perhaps…” Leuthil sighed.

 

***

 

Galdor was waiting for the King behind the door and as Thranduil joined him they both started walking down the corridor towards the healer’s wing of the stronghold. Galdor watched his friend closely. As he had assumed Thranduil had almost panicked from the news. He himself had been also shaken. They could have never predicted such a move from the elleths. Yet fortunately and one could say miraculously no one had been hurt.

 

“Anything?” Thranduil asked after a while in silence.

 

“It seems to be only an accident…” Galdor said.

 

“Impossible!” the King snapped.

 

“There is no evidence of any interference from anyone!” Galdor shrugged. “The ropes holding the bridge were not powerful enough.”

 

“How can elvish ropes give away like that!?” the other asked disbelievingly.

 

“Even elvish ropes are not unbreakable…” the steward reminded.

 

They had reached the healer’s wing where Erhan was hospitalized and the two halted when Thranduil grabbed his friend’s arm to gain his attention. Galdor looked up to his aquamarine eyes that reflected determination and stubbornness.

 

“This is not and accident Galdor…we were only lucky that their scheme failed…” the King said firmly. “Yet I fear we depend too much on luck …”

 

“I will investigate…” the steward assured. To any other who had not known the things that had happened to them Thranduil might have seemed paranoid. Yet Galdor knew and he would take this seriously.

 

Thranduil nodded as he knocked on the door and entered Galdor following.

To Thranduil’s delight the healer’s wing was quiet in that time of the afternoon as he wished to talk to the sentry in private. He found Erhan lying on one of the beds with his back leaning on the headboard.

 

To Galdor the King looked delighted to see the sentry well. It was not that the steward was not happy that the guard was unharmed but the concern Thranduil showed towards Erhan irritated him. He would never admit that he was jealous but he did not really appreciate that sentry was becoming so close to the King. Thranduil was his to protect and that was his territory. 

 

“My king!” The sentry greeted courtly and tried to move but his face twisted in pain. Thranduil raised his hand to prevent him from moving further. Galdor pulled a chair for the King and as Thranduil sat he stood behind him beside the bed.

 

“How are you feeling?” The King asked tenderly.

 

“I’m fine my King, my back hurts slightly but other than that I feel alright…” Erhan explained. “But the healers fussed and insisted that I stay for the night!”

 

Galdor hardly suppressed a scoff. The pathetic sentry was trying to brag about his strength while he could not move a muscle.

 

“It is wise to do as the healers tell you…” Thranduil smiled and Galdor was happy that the guard had failed to impress the King. The stupid newcomer had thought it was easy to have a place in the King’s heart. To Thranduil’s words the young one merely nodded and smiled.

 

“I must tell you that I am greatly irritated that you did not tell me about this little trip to Market…” The King continued. “You serve me before serving my household Erhan…I might remind you that.”

 

“It is true my king…” the sentry dropped his gaze. “I beg for your forgiveness…”

 

Thranduil was silent for a while. Perhaps he was thinking about sending the guard away. Galdor had learned a long time ago that being the sentry in the royal guard was not at all easy and definitely not a job to play at. He hoped that the King had finally seen the wrong in his decision to put someone so young in this position. His hopes however were shattered when Thranduil started speaking again.

 

“I’m sure that this will never be repeated …” he said. “And I am grateful to you for saving their lives…” Erhan raised his head and looked at his liege disbelievingly. Thranduil leaned closer and in a strange compassionate gesture placed his hand on the sentry’s and looked at him straight in the eyes. “Demand anything you want from me and you will have it if it is in my power, for you have given me back the lives of those whom I love most…”

 

Galdor had never known he was capable of such intense feelings. His fingers twitched and he longed jump and separate their hands and then give the blasted sentry a heavy punch in the nose. Yet he was helpless and in great irritation he watched Erhan blush and give his King a smile as if he was some sort of an admired hero.

 

“To serve you is my only wish my king…” Erhan said.

 

It became almost impossible for the steward to push back his irritation and he had to turn away for a few moments to gain back his composure. When he turned Thranduil had finally let go of the sentry’s hand and was sitting back rather satisfied.

 

“I should ask Erhan…” the King then continued. “Did you see anything that might arouse suspension? Something that might lead us to some form of a scheme…?” 

 

Erhan thought and silence fell between them while he did so. Galdor could feel Thranduil’s anticipation, his hope that perhaps his sentry could give them a clue.

 

“The crowd was strange…” Erhan said after a while. “I do not know why so many people gathered suddenly since no-one knew of the ladies’ presence in the Market. It was as if someone had brought the news to them and excited them to go have glimpse…” the sentry continued but then he shrugged. “But other than that I saw nothing my King…”

 

Thranduil sighed disappointedly yet still he nodded his appreciation. The King then looked up at Galdor over his shoulder and the steward saw his own concern reflected in Thranduil’s eyes.

 

***

 

“Do not worry yourself…” Galdor said as he closed the door behind them. “I’ll investigate personally…”

 

Thranduil nodded but then his attention was caught by one of the guards who was approaching them from the end of the corridor. They waited until the sentry reached them and bowed.

 

“My King…” he said. “Lord Daitrid has sent me to inform you of his return. He is waiting for you in the throne room.”

 

The King dismissed the young elf with the wave of his hand and as the sentry walked away he headed for the main hall with Galdor following him in silence.

 

The report Daitrid was supposed to bring was truly important. If the lord had been successful in his investigation of the evil movements in the north then they would know what exactly was awaiting them. Thranduil could not help but feel anticipation. Though they were many older than him in Middle-Earth, he had lived long yet despite his years he could not fathom what it was that had befallen the north and this lack of knowledge was irritating him. The King did not know if he wished to hear the news Daitrid had for him or not but he knew that he had no choice. At least the Lord’s report would bring them out of the dark.

 

As predicted Daitrid was waiting for them in the throne hall. Seemingly he had not taken rest after his arrival and had come straight to the King’s visit since he was still clad in his traveling robes. In his right hand he held a bundled piece of fabric that at first sight did not come to Thranduil’s attention. In the hall there were also some other members of the council chattering with each other. They all went silent as the King entered.

 

“My King...” Daitrid greeted as he bowed when Thranduil and Galdor entered the hall. The others also rose and bowed to their king.

 

“Welcome back…” the King smiled as took his seat on the throne. “What news do you have for us my Lord?”

 

Daitrid seemed hesitant as he shifted his weigh and look about him. Thranduil knew well that the lord wished to talk to him in a more private setting and this heightened his already overwhelming anticipation. However he kept his cool mask as he looked at the other councilors.

 

“Leave us…” he ordered.

 

The elves looked at each other but dared not argue as they rose and slowly left the throne hall, however Galdor remained beside the King and neither Thranduil nor Daitrid argued with that.

When the Lord made sure they were alone he eyed the King with weary eyes.

 

“My King I bear ill news…” he started. “We have found what ails the north.”

 

Then slowly the lord unfolded the bundle of fabric in his hands. When untied, some dark things dropped from the bag to the stone floor. Thranduil’s eyes went to the things that looked more like dark pieces of wood yet when he saw a scull of an animal among them he knew that these were burnt _bones_. His breath hitched as he lifted his gaze to Daitrid for explanation.

 

“This is what remains of one of our less fortunate horses, my King…” the Lord explained gravely. “Gigantic lizards are roaming in the north…”

 

“What do you mean?” the King ask sitting straighter, feeling cold sweat run down his spine. “Gigantic lizards?

 

“Yes my king” Daitrid nodded. “Gundabad is breeding dragons…”

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened. He felt Galdor shift beside him. The steward was probably experiencing the same horror his King was feeling. They had both lived long. Yet Thranduil had not even met someone who had seen dragons with his own eyes. These creatures were only heard of in legends and myths. Huge reptiles with wings like leather and eyes as ambers; skin like a thousand swords and breath that turned everything to ash.

 

Thranduil felt such a defeat that his insides twisted. He had fled with his people this far north to be sheltered from spiders and orcs. Was this what they were going to face now? How was this fare that evil followed them everywhere they went?

 

“Call upon the council…” the King ordered Galdor in a tone that was hardly audible.

 

 

     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok now I know that the story has become a little bit slow, but this was what the plot demanded. From the next chapter everything would change :D


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 60!!!! WOW! I had never thought to reach here and I thank everyone who has kudoed, commented and mostly those who still remain with me.   
>  Since I'm not a native speaker I must apologize for my grammatical and spelling mistakes. :D

Galdor had a special ability in gathering the council in the shortest time possible. No one really knew how the Steward managed to find all the members so fast and call upon them to gather in the meeting hall while they were all scattered around the stronghold out of reach.

 

The Steward could hardly wipe off his smug expression as today he had broken his own record as he had gathered the council in a spectacularly short amount of time while Thranduil had only managed to go to his chambers and change and then return to the meeting hall. He had been rewarded with the King’s wide eyes and slack jaw.

Lord Daitrid went on with the explanation of his report and within each second the councilors sank deeper in fear and awe. Some of these people were incredibly old yet even the eldest among them had never seen dragons with their own eyes. These creatures belonged to stories and legends yet there was no denying the facts that the foul kingdom of Gundabad was breeding the gigantic reptiles when Daitrid and his men had been witness to it.

 

After the lord’s report was done the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Horror and anxiety danced in the air. No one dared to share any comments and as Galdor’s eyes scanned the people in the room he saw nothing but fear in their faces. He had to admit that he had expected more courage and wisdom from the people who claimed to be the wisest among the ElvenKing’s subjects. Thranduil who was sitting on his right at the head of the table must have expected the same thing since he had shared the news with the council before doing anything. The Steward thought that perhaps the King was disappointed as well and his assumption was proven right.

 

“My wise councilors…” Thranduil finally said after minutes had passed, expectation clear in his voice. “I have gathered you here to know your opinions on this turn of events, for I do not wish to act upon this matter without the wisdom of my council…”

 

Strangely Galdor noted the King’s voice trembled slightly. It was not perceptible for anyone else yet to him who knew Thranduil better than he knew himself it was clear. The Steward had been so caught up in managing the crowded meeting that he had not paid attention to the King and so when he turned to look at Thranduil he was surprised to see the King was not sitting with his usual regal stance. He was slightly bent forward with his hand gripping the edge of the table as if balancing himself. To his fear and astonishment the Steward saw droplets of sweat resting on Thranduil’s forehead. The King wiped the moisture away with his palm and Galdor noted the shake in his hand and the heaviness with which the King’s chest heaved for breath. The Steward leaned forward to ask if the Sindar was alright yet he did not get the opportunity to do so as the councilors started talking.

 

“We cannot be indifferent about this…!” Dolorod was the first to speak. “This is for sure…”

 

“And what do you suggest my Lord?!” Alheru said almost harshly. “An attack!?”

 

“If we must!” Dolorod defended.

 

“This is folly.” Alheru smirked. “No army can take down dragons…”

 

“We saw only one what we may call _adult_ dragon…” Daitrid reminded. “The rest are smaller in size and seemingly younger…”

 

“It doesn’t change anything, they are still _dragons_ …” Alheru barked. “These are not just any beast to be defeated.”

 

“Then you suggest that we leave them be?!” Lady Meriloth snapped suddenly.

 

Alheru opened his mouth to answer yet words left him. Instead Naurfir leaned in and came to his help. “Of course we should do something about it; yet the military option must not be a priority…”

 

“Then you suggest we negotiate with the lizards?!” Meriloth said sarcastically. “It would be something to look forward to!”

 

“As the legends say these are creatures with great natural defense…” Lady Malons interfered just as Naurfir shook his head and sat back. “No army can defeat them…”

 

“Then you suggest that we sit back and watch them destroy everything…?” Meriloth argued back.

 

“This concerns the other lands as well…” Malons reminded. “We can ask for aid…”

 

“Ask for aid?!” Dolorod laughed. “When did last aid come to us?!”

 

“Lord Dolorod is right!” Meriloth agreed. “We never had aid, no one will answer…!”

 

“Imladris will!” Naurfir yelled as he banged his fist on the table. “They have always helped!”

 

“This is not something that can be solved with a couple of legions…” Dolorod yelled.

 

“We are in a good military condition…” Holgailion who had been silent until now interrupted. “If Imladris would agree to join troops we might be able to wage war on Gundabad.”

 

“Wage war on Gundabad!?” Dolorod almost screamed. “We are talking about dragons, not orcs!”

 

“ENOUGH!!!!”

 

Thranduil’s bellow made the councilors jump and forget about the heated argument that was going out of their hands. All heads turned to the King. “This looks more like a nursery school than the royal court!” the King snapped. His glare spared no one as he eyed every single person in the room. “I have heard your opinions…” he waved his hand dismissively. “You may leave!”

 

It took the councilors a few seconds to register their insulting dismissal. After a while in silence the sound of papers being shuffled and wooden chairs being pushed back on the floor filled the room as the members rose to leave. They would surely continue their argument behind the doors.

 

Meanwhile Galdor watched the King. Thranduil was not normally one to become impatient or angered by the council’s disorder. These heated conversations and angry arguments were a daily basis for the council and they were considered quite normal. After all, nine people could never be expected to have the same opinion. The King was normally patient in these meetings and was able to listen to these arguments and usually he managed to pick up the best solution from between the fights that seemed to go nowhere. Yet today Thranduil had become strangely impatient and harsh. However Galdor completely forgot about the thought when his eyes landed on the King. Thranduil was covered in sweat and the trembling in his hands were now completely apparent. He had his eyes closed and his head in his hand as if the argument had given him a headache. Galdor looked around the room and saw that Miklovand remained there. The dark haired ellon was eyeing the King with the same concerned expression. The Captain’s eyes found Galdor’s in a moment and both knew that the other was thinking the same thing; Thranduil did not look good. Galdor rose to his feet and approached the King.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

 

“I’m fine!” Thranduil answered starkly as he raised his head. He huffed out angrily and rejected Galdor’s stretched hand for help as he rose to his feet.

 

The sudden cry of pain that came from the King startled the Steward. Thranduil gripped his chest where his heart was and gasped for air just as his knees gave away under him and if Galdor had not caught him in the air the King would have landed on the floor, knees first.

“Thranduil!” Galdor gasped as he tried to hold the King who was still having problem breathing as he rubbed his chest. Miklovand ran to them and grabbed Thranduil’s other arm helping him stand.

 

“Sit down here…” the Steward said as he urged the King towards the seat. Then he looked up at Miklovand. “Call a healer…”

 

“No…No!” Thranduil said waving his hand dismissively. “There’s no need.”

 

“You don’t look alright!” Miklovand said. “You should see a healer…”

 

“No!” the King said firmly as he tried to stand straight still rubbing his chest. “I’ll be alright!”

 

Galdor eyed him doubtfully. Though the King was standing on his feet again he had not let go of the Stewards hand and this suggested that he predicted to fall again. The Silvan could also feel this by how Thranduil’s body swayed like a tree in storm.

 

“Galdor…” Thranduil finally whispered. “Take me to my chambers…”

 

The Steward nodded and slowly led Thranduil past Miklovand and out of the hall ignoring the Captain’s strange look.

The walk to the royal chambers was done in silence. Thranduil leaned his weigh on Galdor as the Steward held him upright by his hold on the Sindar’s arm. The King’s back was bent from weakness and the great pain that still throbbed in his chest. The Silvan could hear his heavy breathing.

 

Galdor did not know about the amount of the pain or its reason. He could only tell that it existed as he watched the King rub his chest now and then. The Steward was being sick with worry yet he knew Thranduil enough to know that if he insisted on taking the King to a healer the Sindar would refuse more firmly.

 

As they entered the royal chamber Thranduil let go of the Steward’s hand and crawled on the bed atop the bed covers. He did not bother to remove his clothes or his boots as he collapsed on the pillows and sighed painfully.

 

Without a word Galdor started removing the King’s robe and Thranduil did not argue. He twisted his arm helpfully to aid the Steward in removing the heavy fabric off his shoulders. Normally the King hated being attended yet he seemed to appreciate the Silvan’s help since he had no strength to get rid of the regal clothes. Galdor then removed the King’s boots and tossed them aside before covering his liege with a blanket.

 

“Galdor…” The King rasped. “I forgot to tell Alheru. Find him and send him to Southernwood immediately. I need him to investigate if the accident in the Market had been schemed there…”

 

“I will...” The Steward assured fussing with the blanket. “Do not concern yourself with it.”

 

Thranduil raised his torso and stretched his arm to grab a dark bottle from his bedside table. The Steward handed it to him and the King took a sip from the dark liquid inside. Thinking that Thranduil did not have the strength to explain Galdor did not ask about the medicine but made a mental note to ask later. He placed back the bottle on the table after the King was done with it.

 

“I will cancel tomorrow’s visit to the Orphanage…” the Steward said.

 

“No…” Thranduil said. “I’ll come…I’ll be alright if I can some sleep.”

 

Galdor said nothing but shook his head which went unnoticed by the King since he had his eyes closed. He found no energy to argue further. The Steward fussed more with the blanket. He was reluctant to leave the King as he feared for his wellbeing. 

 

“Thank you Galdor…” Thranduil whispered after a while but his tone was not dismissive.

 

“I still think you should see a healer…” Galdor insisted.

 

“There’s no need…” the King said. “I haven’t been sleeping for a while; I’m merely exhausted. I would be alright if I could take a nap…”

 

“If you say so…” Galdor sighed, knowing it was useless to argue with him.

 

The Steward glanced around the chamber. He noted the untouched plate on the table which had been brought for Thranduil’s dinner last night. He had sensed the King’s weakness from a while ago yet he had not thought it serious. Galdor knew that he had to peruse his friend to have the healers examine him and promised himself to talk to the Sindar tomorrow after their trip. The Steward glanced one more time at Thranduil who was already asleep and then he walked out of the door.

 

***

 

That night the King asked for his daughter to be brought to him after he woke up from his sick reverie hours later. When the maids laid the baby in his arms he sighed in the comfort just holding the child brought to him. He drank the sight of her; her fine dark hair, her wide eyes and tiny hands. One entire hand was just as big as one of his knuckles and he chuckled at the fact.

 

Negaar took great pleasure in pulling her father’s hair and the playful tugs leaped Thranduil’s heart. In response to his wide smile the baby giggled and kicked her tiny feet. Thranduil did not know why tears started welling in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. His body had become so weak that could not bear the force of the emotions running inside him. While he gazed down at his elfling he wondered if it is possible to love someone so much, he wondered how his heart had not already exploded out of his chest from the flood of love washing over it.

 

He started singing a lullaby for Negaar. He remembered his mother singing this to Aleth when she was a baby. This lullaby had been probably sang to himself as well when he had been too young to remember. Thranduil wanted so much to return to those days; when he had no care in the world except eating and crying. He wanted so much to hide in the protective embrace of his mother.

 

The baby was soon asleep in his arms. Thranduil could not suppress the urge of kissing her several times even if it risked her waking up. He laid Negaar on the bed beside him away from the edge stretching out next to her. He watched his beloved daughter until his eyelids were too heavy to remain open. 

 

***

 

The Queen worked late that night. New fabric had arrived from the Market. After sorting them out with Aleth which had taken a long time Leuthil had selected some to sew new clothes for Negaar. The baby grew fast and already the clothes that she had sewn not only two months ago were becoming useless.

 

“I did not expect you to be up this late…”

 

She raised her head to smile at the voice. The door of the workshop was open and Glorfindel was standing in the threshold. “It’s almost midnight…” he said. “You should retire.”

 

“Is it?!” Leuthil said surprised. “I didn’t feel the time pass. Why are you awake?”

 

“Checking on the guards…” the Balrog Slayer said. “Punishing them if they fall asleep on watch!”

 

The Queen chuckled at that imagining the lord as he whipped the guards on their butt.

Glorfindel approached as he pointed at the tiny dress in the Queen’s hand.

“Is sewing for your daughter so sweet that you forgot about the time?!” he asked with a smile.

 

“Yes…” Leuthil grinned. “She’s growing very fast.”

 

“I’m sure she’ll be just as beautiful as her mother…” Glorfindel commented.

 

“Well, I don’t think she’ll be like me!” the elleth chuckled as she stood. “She already has Thranduil’s eyes.”

 

Glorfindel’s smile disappeared and he frowned so gravely that the Queen wondered if she had said something wrong to upset him. He took a step closer.

“Then you will outrank her beauty for sure!” he said. “The Princess is a loser for inheriting the King’s eyes instead of yours!”

 

Leuthil burst into laughter. The Lord’s seriousness while he had said those words amused her.

“You flatter me!” she said.

 

“I say the truth…” the lord chuckled but then he turned serious again. “I heard about the accident in the Market…”

 

“Oh that!” Leuthil rolled her eyes.

 

“I was so worried…” Glorfindel said. “And…helpless!”

 

“You are not my guard…” the Queen smiled tenderly.

 

“I wished I was…” the lord whispered while to Leuthil’s surprise he raised his hand and caressed a strand of hair out of her face. “That way I could have been with you all the time.”

 

Leuthil’s face burned with a hot blush. She knew well that Glorfindel was actually flirting with her. The Queen understood that the Lord’s advances were because of her own behavior. She gave the Balrog Slayer no reason to back off. With a glare or a harsh reaction the elleth could show the Lord had crossed limits and yet she did not find it in herself to do so. Leuthil was not sure if this was what she wanted. This was forbidden yet the Queen could not upset Glorfindel, somehow the Lord’s heart had become important to her and she could not break it.

 

“You are right my lord; I do feel tired…” she finally said as she took a step back and picked up the newly sewn dress. “I bid you a good night…”

 

“Goodnight…” Glorfindel whispered as the Queen almost fled from the workshop leaving the Lord to blow the candles.

 

Her mind was a mess. She cursed her weakness and she cursed Thranduil. _He_ had pushed her so far, he had been so cold and distant that the Queen craved for a loving attention. She hungered for a single caress, a tender look and a gentle kiss. She missed how his strong arms held her, and how sure she always was of his love and devotion. She craved for the days that despite all his troubles the Elvenking became _her Thranduil_ when he closed the door to their shared bedchamber and drowned her in his unwavering attention.  She cursed her because it was _his_ neglect that she had become needy of the attention of others.

 

The Queen pushed the door of the bedchamber open expecting to be alone again like so many other nights. Yet to her surprise she saw Thranduil sleeping on the bed. The ellon was stretched out atop the bedsheets yet he was deeply sleep. Negaar was in a bundle of blankets, away from the edge close to Thranduil’s face babbling as she played with her little feet.

The Queen approached the bed and watched as her husband slept. He happened to be on her side of the bed which showed that the King had not planned on falling asleep. His dark lashed were draped over his pale cheekbones his breath was even and slow coming out of his slack lips. Leuthil’s heart softened. Noiselessly she changed into her nightgown and before slipping under the covers she placed a blanket over Thranduil. The King moved his face and sighed in sleep but did not wake. Leuthil stretched beside him, their daughter between them. Placing a hand under her head she watched her husband.

 

Was it possible that he still loved her? Would he ever hold her again like he used to? Would he ever look at her the way he once used to do? The Queen fell into reverie with these question swirling in her mind.

 

***

 

Morning came too soon for the King. Although he had slept deeply the night before due to the effects of the opium when his eyes opened the next day he still felt a great lethargy and a sharp pain in his chest. He closed his eyes once again and pressed his eyelids trying in vain to bring back the good dream he had had. The attempt was like trying to catch smoke in the air. With a sigh he gave up and once more he opened his eyes. Thranduil sat up on the bed with great heaviness and looked around. It was almost dawn. His eyes found his sleeping wife and daughter. Sometime during the night Leuthil had laid beside him and he had not even noticed. Thranduil remembered a time when his senses were sharp; if a soundless spider sneaked in his chamber he would have woken up instantly. And yet his senses had become weak just like his body.

 

He observed the elleth resting on the bed and his heart started racing in his chest causing him more pain. Valar knew how much he loved her. The King wanted so much to touch her, to hold her and kiss her. He wanted to feel her, to let her touch him and make him feel alive again and yet he was helpless. He feared so much. Thranduil knew he did not have the strength to see the fearful look in her eyes when she would see his visible ribcage or the faded muscles of his body; or her disappointment when she would find out he was unable to endure the passion.

 

The King only knew that he was crying silently when his tears fell on his own hand. A strange misery had crept into his heart that he didn’t seem able to fight it back. It was a hopelessness he had never felt before not even when his mother had left; not even when his father had died leaving him to lead a torn army. Hot blood rushed to his face and shameful he wiped away his tears.

 

The stone floor was cold when his feet touched it and Thranduil cursed the pain that shoot up his legs. He felt like old men. Despite the depression that was overwhelming him the King smirked to himself. If he was a human he would have already turned to a rotten fossil. The imagery did not help his misery and Thranduil decided it was time to get out of the bed or else he would be spending the day between the sheets. He had to visit a newly founded establishment located in one of the most crowded levels of the stronghold. It housed an aid center, an armory, many healing houses, a school, and many workshops to empower widows and elleths and a huge orphanage. For this specific establishment he had almost emptied his personal vaults. Yet the King was glad since the reports coming from it were satisfying. For a long time he had been postponing this visit. He wished so much to stay inside this day but it seemed inevitable.

 

Soundlessly he started dressing in a simple dark grey tunic. He didn’t need to look overly rich while walking among his subjects. They didn’t need to think of him far and unreachable. The king did not mind his trembling hands when he fixed the belt on his narrow waist and when he put on a black coat over his tunic and a simple silver circlet on his brow, he deemed himself ready.

Before leaving the room he stole one last glance from his loved ones and could not help but lean in and kiss both of them. The King then walked out of the door on shaking knees to face his day.

 

***

 

Galdor watched the scene before him and his heart warmed. Thranduil was sitting crossed legged on the carpet that had been spread on the stone floor of the orphanage surrounded by excited elflings. Currently a very young one was using the King as her personal armchair as she sat comfortably between Thranduil’s long legs. The others climbed the King’s back or braided his long thick hair. It was amazing how these kids were comfortable around him. A huge lot however were sitting around him on the carpet staring with wide eyes as he told them stories of the lost Kingdom of Doriath. They laughed together when the King made funny faces Galdor never thought him to be capable of; they gasped when the story got exciting and they cried all together when tragedies happened in the tale. Beside the Steward Daitrid chuckled from the tale now and then. The atmosphere was so light and it seemed nothing could ruin it.

 

The visit to the establishment had been good and they had managed to check everywhere to finally end up at the rather huge orphanage for noon where Thranduil had insisted that he wished to have lunch with the elflings. The kids had been super enthusiastic about the fact and when each of them had received a wooden expensive toy the excitement had become almost uncontrollable. Thranduil had bought all the toys of the most expensive toyshop of the city.

 

The orphan children looked good in this place. They seemed well nourished and healthy. Now after a whole day of playing around they sat around Thranduil receiving bread, meat and fruits as the King delivered the nourishments in small morsels held in his slender fingers straight to open little mouths as he talked to them and treated as tenderly as one could. Some of the parents of these kids had been killed defending Greenwood and Galdor knew Thranduil felt responsible if not guilty.

 

As Galdor and Daitrid watched mindful of any danger that might lurk around the King while he had his guards down, the lady who was the manager of the orphanage approached them.

 

“Valar bless the King…” she said fondly standing beside them and observing as Thranduil tickled one of the children. “With his majesty’s help we could be a shelter to these children. Before this many of them wondered around the forest and hurt themselves. Some even got killed by wild animals.”

 

“The children are the future of our realm…” Galdor smiled. “We are happy that they can be safe here.”

 

They fell silent for a long while until after hours Thranduil decided to heed Daitrid’s silent signals and rose. Disappointed moans raised from the children and they clung to the King’s legs to prevent him from leaving.

 

It took Thranduil another half an hour to convince the kids that it was time to go and walked to the lords who were chuckling at his struggle. Galdor held Thranduil’s coat for him and while the King was putting it on a particularly small girl walked to him struggling with every step. Thranduil smiled and picked the elfling up to save her the rest of the hardship.

 

“I thought we said goodbye Pelin…!” the King chuckled.

 

The elfling nodded before stretching a little arm and placing something in Thranduil’s large hand. Thranduil opened his palm and looked at the baby dummy made of cub and chuckled. “Why are you giving me this Pelin?!” he asked amusedly.

 

“Gift!” the little one blurted out. “For Negaar!”

 

“You can’t give me this Pelin…” Thranduil chuckled trying to give the dummy back to the girl. “It belongs to you!”

 

“I don’t use…” Pelin said pushing Thranduil’s hand away with a force he did not expect from an elfling as small as her. “I am big!”

 

Thranduil gazed at the little one for a while not knowing what to say. Despite the fact that as their King Thranduil fed these children, they had nothing except the things that were necessary. And yet she gave him the precious dummy so generously that it made the King’s heart stir in his chest. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Thank you Pelin…” he whispered before putting her down. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

 

The elfling giggled and waved at him as she was led away by one of the workers. Thranduil waved back for a while before turning towards the lords and placing the dummy in his pocket.

“It’s well past noon my King…” Daitrid reminded. “We shall leave. With the crowd that has gathered outside the settlement it will take us ages to pass.”

 

Thranduil merely nodded and seemed casual about the fact that wherever he or his household went they were treated like rarity and the people gathered to have a glimpse of them. After all these years at the King’s side Galdor couldn’t get used to the excited people that surrounded Thranduil everywhere they went. He felt protective as he felt that these types of excited crowd could cause danger for Thranduil.

 

The king turned towards the lady manager. “Lady Shiva; I must thank you for the great job you’ve done…” he said placing a hand on the lady’s shoulder. “I hope that the quality of the place would remain the same. I insist specially that no neglect must be done towards those who work here and their wages…I do not wish for them to become lax about their work under any circumstances.”

 

“You need not worry my King…” the Lady said humbly. “With your generosity hopefully we’ll be able to keep the quality up.” 

 

“Good…if you need anything, you need but ask.” Thranduil assured. “Have a good day my Lady…”

 

They walked out of the door together. Once they were out the guards surrounded them protectively. The crowd that had gathered was enormous and overly excited, cheering when they saw the King. As they walked towards their horses Thranduil smiled and waved at the people making them even more excited. Despite the cheerful appearance of the King, Galdor could read weariness and exhaustion from his eyes as if he wished to go back home as soon as possible.

 

The King reached his mare and while Galdor held the rein, Thranduil placed his hands on the saddle. He grabbed the edge firmly to pull himself up yet his trembling weak arms failed him and he slipped down back on the ground in the middle of the way. In all his years with Thranduil Galdor had never seen such a thing happen and it shocked him greatly. Immediately he placed a hand on Thrnaduil’s back and leaned his head since the cheers made it hard to hear one another. “Are you alright?!” he said in the King’s ear.

 

“I’m fine!!!” Thranduil barked turning to look at him sharply. “Don’t fuss over me in front of my subjects. You embarrass me!” he hissed

 

Galdor was taken aback by the King’s harsh behavior. Yet he saw Thranduil’s pale face and he noted the droplets of sweat on his face, whether it was from shame or weariness he could not tell. He decided it was best not to interfere and stepped back, merely holding the rein as again Thranduil grabbed the saddle and successfully pulled himself up, giving out a muffled groan that went unheard by everyone but Galdor as he sat on the saddle. When he made sure the King had been settled the Steward walked to his own mare and mounted it. The rest were already on their horses and they started riding through the crowd. The people made a way for them between them and they passed; two guards in the front, Daitrid behind them, Thranduil behind Daitrid and Galdor after the King with the other two guards.

 

The Steward had to admit that he was irritated by Thranduil’s treatment. He had only wanted to make sure he was fine; something that he had done almost all his life. He tried to distract himself with observing the people around them who watched them back enthusiastically. Their faces were bright and happy while their eyes followed them as they passed. Yet something caught the Steward’s attention. Gradually the people started looking at the King strangely and Galdor noted them whispering among them as they pointed towards their monarch. The Steward darted his gaze to his front to see what it was that had caught the Silvans’ eyes.

 

Galdor’s eyes widened and for a few moments he could not digest what was happening in front of him. Thranduil was still riding before him yet his head had fallen forward and his body seemed lax and unbalanced on the horse. The Steward urged his mare closer and leaned forward. “My King…” he called. Yet Thranduil did not answer. He couldn’t believe that the King was still cross with him.

 

To his surprise Galdor suddenly saw that with each step the King’s horse took Thranduil slipped more towards the edge and it was that moment that the Steward knew that for some reason the Sindar had no control over his mount. “Thranduil…” he called louder which caught Daitrid’s attention since the lord turned to see what had caused the worried tone in Galdor’s voice. But before they could do anything Galdor watched in great horror as Thranduil’s numb body slipped from the side of the saddle and collapsed on the ground; gasped and screames of the crowd following.

 

Galdor did not know what he yelled to catch the guards attention but whatever it was it worked. Not that he was waiting to watch them dismount. The Steward was already down from his mount and running to push Thranduil’s horse away to ensure he doesn’t crush his owner. Just as he made sure the mare was well away from the King and he knelt down beside Thranduil who had fallen on his side, the guards formed a wall of flesh around them to stop the curious and worried crowd from advancing. With great fear the Steward turned the King and held his face in his hands suddenly realizing that Thranduil was covered in cold sweat and burning in fever.

 

“He fainted…” the Steward heard Daitrid say concern apparent in his voice. “He’s unconscious.”

 

Galdor felt sick with worry. His heart was beating in his throat and waves of panic were surging over him. Why had this happened was hidden from him. He had never heard of sicknesses among elves and it was a great shock to see fever upon the King. But Thranduil was not just anyone and fear outranked surprise in the Stewards heart. Thranduil was his King and moreover his friend and brother. Watching him fall from his horse like a woolen doll had terrified Galdor and now that he was sure that the King was definitely unconscious it did not help to soothe his horror. He knew only one thing; he had to take Thranduil away to a safe place where he could be examined by healers. Firstly they needed to get him out of here.

 

Knowing that the King was unable to move Galdor had to pick him up. He slipped one hand under Thranduil’s knees and the other behind his back and then he rose to his feet. The Steward’s eyes widened from another wave of shock as he felt how extremely light Thranduil was. He had carried the Sindar before; many times. He had been the one to carry the Prince from the surging battle when he was injured in the last alliance and he knew that Thranduil was never a heavy elf. But this lightness was not normal. Despite his slenderness the King had strong full muscles trained for war; this was not Thranduil’s real weigh. Galdor could easily mistake him with a small bag of sugar if he did not know what he was carrying.

 

The guards drew their weapons in order to push the crowd back. Daitrid pulled Galdor’s mare closer and received the King’s lax body from Galdor to allow him to get on the saddle. Once the Silvan was sitting on the horse Daitrid helped him settle Thranduil in front of him. The Sindar’s head swayed numbly until Galdor gently placed his golden head on his shoulder and urged the mare to gallop through the crowd that scattered to let them pass fast. The Steward pressed Thranduil’s body to his chest protectively, fear washing his in powerful waves.

 

  

 

 

 


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly have no excuse for this long delay except my own tardiness and of course I was suffering from the lack of inspiration syndrome!   
> I promise to be faster next time; though it seems I always fail at keeping my promises :(   
> And also I might have messed with Tolkien’s map a bit; since I really have no idea how far is Lorien to Thranduil’s halls. I hope he forgives me!
> 
> Ok from this chapter Thranduil will have some sort of hallucinations and he is haunted by the ghosts of his past and reality might be mixed with his illusions, it is supposed to be confusing but if it gets too confusing let me know!!!!

Leuthil’s arms felt numb from hours of bouncing Negaar in a vain attempt to calm her wails. The fevers that the Queen had come to dread had returned full force. The baby’s temperature went so high that her soft pale skin turned a burning red and she cried at the top of her lungs resisting even her mother’s breast. They had tried literary everything yet to no avail.

 

Aleth was sitting on the bed. It was her turn to take a rest after a long while of rocking the baby. She watched in worry as Leuthil walked the length of the room and bounced the little one across her chest murmuring soothing songs in her ear. She did not wish to concern her friend more than that but truly the situation with Negaar was getting worrisome and Leuthil’s temper did not help either. The Queen was so nervous that she had dismissed all the maids from the room leaving them single handed with a baby that was threatening to turn the Elvenking’s stronghold to rubble with only the noise she was making. 

 

“Did you give her the medicine?” Aleth finally asked.

 

Leuthil nodded worriedly. “I just hope Lord Elrond would get here sooner…”

 

“Galdor recived a news from him yesterday…” the princess said. “He has arrived in Lothlorien and will stay five days there for some meeting before coming here…”

 

Leuthil’s concern heightened by this news. It was a whole day ride from Lorien to the stronghold if one galloped with a swift horse and if one rode through the night. That would make at least six days before Elrond would reach them. However the Queen could not linger on the matter more since her attention was caught by the knock on the door and her maid that entered. Liadan, the Queen’s faithful handmaid walked inside with a huge jar of jam in her arms which was assigned to her to give it to the Queen’s father. Knowing how much Alheru loved orange jam Leuthil had saved some for him when the stock had arrived.

 

“Did you not give it to my father?” she asked over the cries of the baby which were gradually lessening due to the effect of the medicine and her own exhaustion.

 

“No my lady, I searched everywhere for Lord Alheru but apparently he has left on a mission…” Liadan explained.

 

Leuthil frowned. Her father always told her when he was about to leave or actually _Thranduil_ always told her when he was sending her father on some mission. Despite that there was nothing Alheru could do in a situation such as this, his absence was a weigh on the Queen’s shoulders as if just knowing that her father was around was enough to warm her heart specially now that she was experiencing such neglect from her husband. She nodded at Liadan and went back to walking around the room. Leuthil merely hoped that the help that Thranduil had said will come from Lord Elrond would arrive soon. Liadan went about the task of changing the bedsheets and did not talk anymore.

 

“Perhaps he’s gone to the north because of the dragons!” Aleth said after a while.

 

“What dragons?” Leuthil turned abruptly.

 

“You don’t know?!” Aleth asked surprised.  “Dragons have been spotted in the north. The news has caused much unrest in the court.”

 

Leuthil sank deep in thought. She had never seen real dragons only; heard of them and she doubted if anyone had really seen any of those famous giant reptiles. But this was not what had the Queen’s mind busy. The fact that Thranduil had not mentioned a word about this was troubling. He used to talk about everything with his wife. Not only there used to be no secrets between them but also there were even no unsaid words. He used to tell her everything about what went around the court and he believed that as his Queen she ought to know everything, the King even asked for her wisdom or opinion often. However clearly he had changed that attitude and it made the Queen realize how far they had drifted apart.

 

“I did not know…” Leuthil whispered finally.

 

“Galdor told me about it…” Aleth shrugged. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have known either.”

 

“Thranduil did not mention a word…” the Queen said while she now swayed the baby in her arms as the little one had finally fallen asleep despite the fever. “He was already sleep when I retired last night, though I doubt he would have said anything if he had been awake.” Deep in her heart she envied Aleth and Galdor for their closeness and could not believe that there was a time when probably Aleth had envied her own closeness with Thranduil when the princess had not yet reached her lover.

 

“I guess he’s still avoiding you for some twisted reason…” Aleth sighed and stood from her place on the bed. Walking towards Leuthil she extended her arms and took the baby from her mother. “You should talk to him before this gets out of both of your hands…”

 

To that Leuthil merely nodded. She knew Aleth was right however she did not know why she postponed this conversation with Thranduil. Perhaps she was afraid of what she would hear from him. She feared that he would indeed tell her that he no longer loved her. The Queen did not know if she could stand the rejection. Her thoughts however were caught short as the door of the chamber was knocked again.

 

Liadan paused her tasks and walked to the door and opened it. It was Erhan. The tall sentry stepped inside but did not walk further from the threshold. The Queen was surprised to see him at first but remembered that because of his injuries Thranduil had banned the guard from accompanying him through the city. “My ladies…” he bowed. The guard seemed calm but from his eye Leuthil immediately knew that something was not right.

 

“Erhan!” Leuthil asked. “Is there something wrong?”

 

“The king has returned…” Erhan said carefully as if he could not arrange his words in a sentence.

 

“So soon!” the Queen raised her eyebrows, she had thought the visit would take the whole say and the party would return in the evening.

 

“My lady, while riding through the streets, his majesty has fainted and fallen off his horse…” Erhand said quickly, as if uttering it fast would lessen the impact. “Lord Galdor just brought him in…”

 

***

 

Standing passively behind the wooden divider walls that had been placed in the royal healer’s wing for privacy while waiting for the healers to examine Thranduil who was still unconscious and burning in a high fever had proven to be a very difficult task for the Steward. Not only his own heart was bursting out of his chest from worry but he had to take up the task of calming the king’s sister and wife since all the maids were dismissed to avoid rumors to spread as much as possible. Aleth was standing silently as her eyes followed the Queen who walked up and down the room in anxiety. The only signs of restlessness that showed in the Princess were her worry filled eyes and how she shifted her weight from one foot to the other while biting her lips. Galdor assumed that she was using her long learned skills as Oropher’s daughter; not to show emotions. He also assumed that she did not want to show her concern for the sake of Leuthil who looked on the verge of a panic attack.

 

The Queen’s anxiety echoed around the chamber in waves. Her usual majestic demeanor had broken and she was a mess of fear and concern. Galdor knew that if he as a close friend was feeling this worried, she must be in indescribable horror. This wait that the Steward found painful must be intolerable for her. As if in proof of his thought Leuthil looked up at him and broke the tense silence. “What happened suddenly?!” she asked in a mixture of worry and expectation, her patience reaching its limits.

 

“He was not feeling well during the court meeting yesterday, but he insisted that we go on with the regular schedule today.” Galdor sighed. “I did not know the extent of this before he fainted and fell off his mare!”

 

“Valar…!” Leuthil sighed as she resumed pacing the chamber.

 

Galdor shifted the bottle that he was holding in his hand. It was the medicine he had seen Thranduil take the night before. Now he knew what it was. Seeing and smelling it closer the Steward had immediately recognized the loathed liquid. He remembered his father using it. Its strong smell still remained in his nostrils from those ages ago. His father used to take opium to forget how his mortal lover was snatched away from him. Later Galdor remembered her mother taking the dark sap as well in an attempt to forget her shame and abuse. He knew what opium did to people, and he could not fathom why Thranduil would use it. Thranduil was smart, he would not risk this unless he would have no choice. Yet the Steward decided to keep silent about it for now; he did not have to make the Queen worry more. However there were things he needed to know.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me something about this my lady?” Galdor asked suddenly making the Queen look up at him. There was no accusation in his voice, merely concern and curiosity. “You must have felt his weakness or seen how thin he’s become, it’s impossible not to notice.”

 

Knowing Thranduil’s passionate nature the Steward thought that he had probably disrobed in front of his wife numerous times and Leuthil could not blame him for his assumption. With their love that was infamous through Middle-Earth how could one think that the King had gone so cold towards her. The Queen opened her mouth to answer the steward but closed it only to open it again and then shut her mouth like a fish that has been thrown out of the river. Galdor gazed at her expectantly and watching her expression he raised his eyebrows. Aleth darted her eyes from her husband to Leuthil and back. Deciding that she needed to save the Queen from Galdor’s questioning look she interfered.

 

“Thranduil has not been coming to his chambers for a while as I understand…” the Princess explained briefly, trying to convey her message to the Steward.

 

Galdor was smart enough to understand the vague explanation and he felt his insides stir from the news. It took all his might not to show his surprise and thus shame the Queen so he merely turned away and ran his hands on his face. How could he have been so blind? How had he not seen Thranduil’s strange behavior? As it seemed he had not been the only one guilty. None of them had noticed and the pang of guilt that ran through his veins was threatening to make him sick.

 

“Lord Galdor…”

 

The healer’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and without thinking he rushed towards the elf. The other two healers were also done examining the King and were standing behind the elder one. The healer that had spoken seemed restless as he looked up at the Steward worriedly.

 

“We found nothing sire!” he said apologetically.

 

Galdor’s heart sank inside him. “What do you mean?” he snapped.

 

“His majesty is suffering from weight loss, extreme fever and weakness yet we could not find any particular reason for this my lord!” the healer explained. “Elves do not get sick; there are two ways to explain this, it is either poison or…” the healer stopped talking and dropped his head as if afraid that what he was going to say may anger the royals.

 

“Or what?!” Galdor hissed.

 

“My lord these are the signs that appear when the eldar are overcome with grief…” the healer explained desperately.

 

Beside him the Steward heard the Queen gasp but he did not dare to turn and see the frightful expression on her face; neither could he stand their hopelessness. His mind was numb. Everything sounded absurd. Thranduil was never one to despair. With every failure in his life he had become more powerful and he never gave in. more over these past months had been full of joy for him. His sister had married, his realm had been moved successfully, and more importantly he was blessed with a daughter. How could he despair? _Why_ would he despair?

 

“Get out of here…” the Steward barked to the healers.

 

As if relieved that they were dismissed the elves walked to the door as fast as they could. While the three were exiting the healer’s chambers Hafez entered the room. After he bowed slightly he looked around at the elleth’s who seemed pale and shocked and the Steward who looked as if he could kill.

 

“Sir Hafez…” Galdor greeted with relief. “Please…tell us you can do something.”

 

Hafez took a few steps towards the bed but stood a few paces away from it as he gazed at the trembling King. Thranduil was a shivering mess of cold sweat and sick pale skin. Behind his closed eyelids his eyes ran right and left as if he was dreaming and he moaned and murmured incomprehensible words from time to time.

 

“So it finally overwhelmed him…” Hafez whispered almost inaudibly.

 

“What?” Galdor snapped. “What do you mean…?”

 

The healer turned towards the Steward and looked up at him. “The King has not been feeling well for a long while Lord Galdor…” he said. “He had shared the information of his ailment with me…”

 

“Why am I hearing about this now?” Galdor said in a dangerously calm voice.

 

“Because his majesty insisted on keeping it a secret.” Hafez explained. “The signs that I observed on him were the signs of death…he did not wish to share this information, not with you and not with his family and my patient’s secrets are not mine to spill.”

 

“He’s not just any patient you idiot!!!” Galdor suddenly lost his temper and yelled making all of them jump. “He’s the _King_!!!”

 

“Exactly!” Hafez argued back. “And I _had_ to comply his order!”

 

“Did _you_ give him this?!” Galdor hissed showing the bottle to the healer. Recognition flashed in Hafez’s eyes and it was all the Steward needed to lash out completely and grab the healer’s collar as he shook him. “Have you no conscious? Why would you give him something that causes him melancholy and hallucination?”

 

“Because he was in grave pain!!!” Hafez yelled back as he shoved the Steward’s hand away. Galdor for his part was shocked from this new piece of news. It made him sick to know that Thranduil had been in pain and had hidden it. “He begged me to stop his agony!” the healer continued in a calmer tone.

 

“He had no reason to despair!” Galdor insisted.

 

“The matters of the heart are complicated my lord…” Hafez said regretfully.

 

“What’s going to happen…?” the Queen’s choked voice snapped them out of their argument and both elves turned to look at her. She was trembling and tears were running down her face. Aleth was rubbing her back soothingly but she also looked up at Galdor desperately.

The Steward approached the Queen and held her arms making her look into his eyes. “My lady, Lord Elrond is on his way, he’ll know what to do…” he said hopefully with a forced smile. “We have to stay strong for Thranduil’s sake…”

 

The knock on the door did not allow any response from Leuthil as her gaze darted towards the figure of her handmaid who was standing in the threshold. “My lady” she said. “You should come…”

 

“What’s wrong Liadan?” Leuthil asked.

 

“The Princess is restless again…” the maid said concerned. “The fever has returned and she does not stop crying. I cannot calm her”

 

The Queen knew Liadan to be a skillful handmaid and very calm in crisis. Her daughter must have been in a dire condition for the maid to come rushing to her.

 

“My lady you should go…” Galdor used the news to his benefit. “Call the healers and demand that they examine Negaar…” When the Queen opened her mouth to protest Galdor interrupted her unsaid words. “There’s nothing you can do here. Sir Hafez and I will take care of Thranduil until Elrond arrives.”

 

“Come Leuthil…” Aleth urged and gently pushed the Queen towards the door.

 

Leuthil did not argue but before leaving the chamber she turned towards the Steward. “Please do not leave me uninformed. I’ll return soon.” She almost begged. Galdor nodded before his eye met Aleth’s and they had a silent conversation of gazes. He appreciated the Princess’s attempt not to leave Leuthil alone.

 

After the door was shut behind them the Steward turned towards the healer again. “I still do not appreciate you keeping this from me…” he said sharply. Hafez opened his mouth to argue further but he was silenced by Galdor’s raised hand. “I still do not think that your assumptions are true about his sickness. However I’m no healer but Lord Elrond is on his way, he would know.”

 

The healer looked as if he did not appreciate to be called unskillful or unwise in his methods yet he said nothing and just nodded. The Lord took a step forward and grabbed Hafez’s arm to have his full attention.

 

“Now I need you to keep him alive until the Lord reaches here…” Galdor said. “I need you to tell me whatever we can do to prolong his life.”

 

The healer thought for a few seconds. His gaze darted on the King a few times as he rubbed his chin.

“First of all we should lower his fever…” he said finally.

 

***

 

Galdor thanked the Valar that during the winter they had been thoughtful enough to collect and preserve a significant amount of ice. He was also grateful for the huge flasks that the kitchens used to keep the ice from melting.

 

In a flash the chamber became full of healers and trustable servants. All the healers agreed on what Hafez had suggested and so the servants filled the huge tub in the adjoining bathing chamber with cold water from the river and then they added as many ice blocks possible; so many that when they floated on the surface the water underneath was not visible anymore.

 

Undressing Thranduil was a task Galdor did not allow anyone to partake in but Galion and himself. The squire helped Galdor with the King’s clothes in silence. His skillful hands undid the buttons and laces by heart and once Galdor lifted Thranduil’s limp torso Galion shrugged of the light garment so tenderly as if the King was the fragile child he had been a millennia ago. Galdor chose to ignore the tears that ran down the butler’s face by seeing Thranduil like that; unconscious, trembling with fever and helpless like a newborn baby. The Steward allowed Galion to weep silently and did not comment on it because the sight indeed deserved weeping. He wrapped a towel around Thranduil’s slender hips noting how the bone there had sickeningly popped out under his skin and then he picked up his friend just as he had when the King had first fainted in the street.

 

The healers were ready for them as Galdor walked into the bathing chamber with Thranduil in his arms. The chamber seemed cool due to the freezing water in the bath and for a moment the Steward was reluctant to do what needed to be done.

Sensing his doubt Hafez walked closer and urged Galdor towards the tub. “We would place him in the water...” he explained. “It is the fastest way to lower his fever…”

 

Galdor approached the tub with no other word. He cursed himself for the tremble in his arms which was not for the weigh they were carrying as Thranduil weighed almost nothing but they were from fear of losing the dear life he was holding. This freezing water reminded him of a winter day long ago, when Thranduil had travelled to his home village with his father as Oropher visited the secluded settlements of his realm. It was when he first saw the prince. Not knowing who he was Galdor who had been a few years older than Thranduil had been caught by his sight as the prince had stood beside the river. The water had been cold then as well; freezing. He had saved Thranduil from that water, how could he place him in this tub with his own hands now?

 

“My Lord…”

 

Hafez’s words snapped him out of his thoughts and the Steward acknowledged him with a nod as he bent down to do what he had to do. The other healers approached as well and helped lowering the King down in the water. When the liquid touched Galdor’s skin his muscles jerked with cold and he wondered if Thranduil’s heart would not freeze in his chest. In fact the King gasped in his unconsciousness as the water embraced his naked body yet it was the only reaction they got from him. Keeping him afloat then Galdor looked up at Hafez for further instructions.

 

“We should sink him in the tub.” The healer said. “The water must cover his head as well…”

 

“What?” Galdor exclaimed. “He’s unconscious…are you planning to choke him under the water…?”

 

“We’ll pull him up in a few seconds…” the healer explained as if talking to a stupid elfling. “His head needs to cool down as well.”

 

Galdor growled yet he had no choice but to accept the healer’s wisdom. Slowly he slipped the hand he had place behind Thranduil’s neck to support his head as Hafez placed a tender hand on the King’s forehead and slowly pushed him under the water.

 

_Thranduil had learned how to swim from a very early age. Back in Doriath there were pools in which elflings played and there was almost no child who did not know how to swim. But this river was much different from the pools of the ancient fallen stronghold of Thingol. It was wide, probably wider than what it usually was since it was deep in the heart of winter. And its current was very fast. Thranduil assumed that nothing would be able to bare against the rapid flow of that foaming water and he was surprised to see his brooch still dangling from a rock. His father would kill him if he knew he had lost the brooch so soon after its making. Thranduil knew that gold was scarce in that time and Oropher had paid a lot for those brooches to be made for himself, his wife and his son. He had struggled with the needle behind the brooch since his fingers were frozen despite the thick gloves and then he had dropped the valuable thing in the river with a clumsiness he usually did not find in himself. Miraculously the brooch had been caught by a pointed rock and was still there. Thranduil could see its shimmering yet he was reluctant to step into that water. He was considered tall among his peers but he was still a very young elfling, he didn’t even reach his father’s waist therefore he doubted if he could bear the flow of the river. But on the other hand he was a good swimmer and the brooch was too valuable to be lost and his butt was still tender from the beating he had received for stealing his father’s prized wine and drinking it with classmates who had not ever tasted wine due to their young age. He giggled to himself as he remembered their tutor’s face vaguely when she came back to the chamber and found 8 dozing elflings yet Thranduil did not think his sore butt could take more strikes from his father for losing the family sign. He had to get that brooch out of the water or else drowning in the river would be a much better idea than facing the King._

_“You’re not planning on getting in the water are you?!”_

_The voice almost made him slip into the current and he turned around startled. Another elfling was standing behind him a few feet away watching him with bafflement. He assumed that the child was probably a few years older than him since he was larger in size and a bit taller. His brown reddish hair told Thranduil that he was one of the Silvan probably living in that village. Thranduil knew this child by heart. Somehow he thought that he has seen this elfling in his future days, in his adulthood and he felt a closeness to him that only true friends could yet he did not know why._

_“Step back…!” the elfling said. “You’ll drown yourself if you fall…”_

_“I know how to swim…” Thranduil said offended._

_“Swimming won’t save you from this current…” the child smirked as his eyes roamed up and down the prince’s form. “Beside you’ll die from cold before you drown…”_

_Thranduil’s heart drummed against his chest. “How cold?”_

_“Freezing…” the red haired elfling said immediately. “It’ll be like a hundred knives piercing your body all at once.”_

_“You say as if you know!” the prince challenged._

_“I’ve heard tales…” the child shrugged._

_“I don’t believe in gossip.” Thranduil said smugly._

_“Well you might want to believe this one!” the elfling sighed._

_Thranduil saw another child approaching them from behind the red haired elfling. The new arriver was almost the same age as himself. From their similarity the Prince could easily tell that they were siblings thought the new elfling’s hair was red as fire. “Galdor…” he called which made the first elfling turn towards him. “Come…we’re beginning!”_

_Galdor; the name sounded so familiar to Thranduil. As if he had heard it every day of his life but his mind was too fuzzy to contemplate on his strange feelings. The elfling turned towards him with a smile. “We’re playing stones…” he said. “Do you want to join us?”_

_Coming from a family of royalties he had no idea what a game of stones was. Despite that he did not know anything about this game, in his mind memories flashed of this same elfling teaching him the play though in his memories the child looked older than what he was now. Probably this was the same game he had seen the common children play in the streets. Oh how he envied them when he was not allowed to join. His father got really angry when he ruined his clothes. This invitation was so tempting yet he had to get that brooch out of the water before his father came back from the meeting in the village._

_“Maybe later…” he responded regretfully. “Thank you…”_

_“Whatever suits you…” Galdor shrugged._

_To that Thranduil nodded and watched for a moment as the two elflings walked away on the stony bank of the river. His eyes then drifted back on the shining brooch still in the water. He gathered all his courage and sank on his tiny hands and knees for more control and crawled on the huge stone on the bank until he reached the edge. He paid much attention to place his hands and knees on firm places and when he thought he was close enough he reached out for the brooch. Yet only his hand could enter the water to his wrist from that distance and he instinctively jerked back his arm from the coldness of the water and hissed. The Prince was tempted to give up but the prospect of punishment was too frightening for him. So he laid down on his stomach and crawled further on his chest. This time his arm entered the water as high as his upper arm and he hissed again from the burning cold yet he was too close to give up now. Only a few inches and he would reach the brooch. He stretched his arm further feeling his fingers barely touch the golden jewel. However the prince was so caught in trying to get to his brooch that he did not feel the weakness of the rock he was lying on. He only knew when the stone gave away and he fell right into the river along with it._

_If he could think, the Prince would have probably agreed with Galdor’s statement that the water was so cold it felt like a thousand daggers being driven into his body all at once; however his mind had become numb since the moment the water embraced him. His heart had frozen in his chest and he couldn’t move a muscle to save himself from the wild current. He was so cold that he couldn’t feel the pain of the rocks on the river bed as they scratched and hit him hard. He just wanted to sleep and for the pain to end._

 

 

His breath left him and his eyes snapped open under the freezing water. Choking bubbles came out of his mouth and he felt his chest convulse. His whole body jerked trying to pull himself up to the surface but he was held underneath with a firm hand on his chest. Yet the hand seemed not foul and once the person felt his struggle he helped him up.

 

Thranduil cut the surface of the water so forcefully that his whole torso was jerked out of the tub as he breathed loudly and coughed out water. Galdor couldn’t hold back a grin as he saw that the King although trembling from cold and weakness had awakened. He was immediately handed a towel that he wrapped around Thranduil’s shivering form as he pulled him out of the water.

 

Blankets were then given to him and he wrapped them all around Thranduil who clung to him for dear life and had his face buried in his tunic. The Steward’s heart was bursting out of his chest. The king had been under the water for merely a few seconds but those moments were like eternity to him. And now as Thranduil held on to him like an elfling and shivered with something more than cold Gador was reminded of how much he loved this person.

 

“Galdor…” he heard Thranduil sob quietly and it made his heart stir. “Don’t let me drown…please…”

 

He tightened his arm around the Sindar as if he might slip away and then place his chin on top of Thranduil’s head. The Steward did not know what Thranduil had hallucinated or rather remembered while burning in fever under the freezing water but he could guess. He would not let him go no matter what.

 

Finally he managed to dress the King in a simple night robe with the help of Galion and then they laid him down on the bed. Galdor could already feel Thranduil’s consciousness slipping away again yet the fever had not yet returned yet. Questions ran around his mind. He still could not fathom why Thranduil would want death while he had so much to hold on to. He had heard him say his plans for the future; about the stronghold and the orphanages and everything else. He had discussed the King’s plans for his family, his daughter and people. Why would he despair now of all the times?

 

“ _Galdor_ …” came a whisper from Thranduil as he grabbed the Steward’s tunic in a significantly weak hold.

 

“What is it mellon-nin…?” Galdor said softly as he caressed Thranduil’s wet hair out of his face tenderly trying so hard to suppress the overwhelming feelings that was washing over him by the sight of the King’s helplessness.

 

“I don’t want to die…” the Sindar sighed in the Steward’s tunic.

 

Galdor felt a warmth spread in his heart. No matter how weak and small but it was there; a faint light of hope. His assumptions were true. Thranduil did _not_ wish for death. Something was not right here and the Steward believed that the answer to the Sindar’s condition was not as simple as what the healer’s had said. Part of him was happy from the knowledge that Thranduil wanted to live yet another part of him feared, but for now he needed his friend to endure.

 

“You won’t…” he said firmly leaning forward to kiss Thranduil’s pale hand that felt lifeless in his own. Galdor felt protectiveness and a bundle of other extreme feelings build a fire in his chest. This was the elf that had changed his life; the prince who had pulled him out of poverty, filth and a broken family. He was the one who had helped every single member of his family to build a life for themselves, had saved his mother from selling her body, and had saved him from becoming a bum in secluded village. Thranduil was the one who gave him another life, who saved him from illiteracy and felony and made for him a better family to hold on to. These cold lifeless hands pulled him out of that nightmare and he would not let them go. He would not let Thranduil die. He would follow him to the halls of Mandos and would bring him back if he had to. “Look at me Thranduil…” he demanded softly yet gravely with a tender hand under the Sindar’s chin. With his other hand he caressed the blond’s hair and face lovingly. “I need you to _stay_ , alright? I need you to endure and give me as much as time as you can, do you understand me?” the Steward could see Thranduil’s beautiful eyes already losing focus again despite the graveness in his tone. “ _Thranduil_ , Promise me that you won’t give in…” he said in a louder voice and shook the King’s chin slightly. The aquamarine orbs found his and despite the exhaustion he found in them, the King nodded to his words. Unconsciously the Steward smiled from the weak promise he had gained from Thranduil and placed the King’s head back on the pillow. The steward could not control the flow of emotions from showing. Despite that he wished not even think of the possibility, his friend might be slipping away from his hands. As he swore to keep the King alive he kissed Thranduil’s temple and then his hands while his own fingers were shaking. Then he rose from the bedside and his dark swollen eyes found Hafez who had watched the interaction in silence.

 

“I will ride out to bring Elrond…we cannot wait for him to finish his business in Lorien.” the Steward said firmly. “I need you to prolong his life until the Peredhel arrives, do you understand me?”

 

“Yes…” was all Hafez said before Galdor stormed out of the room.

 

***

 

In minutes the Steward had his travelling suit on, his sword fastened to his belt and his quiver and bow on his back. It was a four days ride to Lorien if one rested during the night, it was two days ride if the horse trotted and was allowed to rest from time to time; it was a whole day ride if one galloped and did not take a rest unless to let the horse drink water. Galdor knew he would gallop and he was sure to give his faithful mare a horrible day of torture. He would probably be forced to change his mount in one of the villages before arriving in Lorien but he did not care. He would _gallop_ and he would make the Lord of Imladris gallop with him to the stronghold. He was placing a small dagger in his boot when Aleth walked inside the room with the Queen.

 

Leuthil’s eyes were swollen but she looked more composed than before. Galdor was happy to see she had somewhat gathered herself, they needed to be strong and while he was away the elleths had to look after Thranduil. Aleth handed him two flasks of a mixture that was known for chasing sleep away and a small bag of Lambas. The Steward could feel the princess’s anxiety through their bond though she showed nothing but a strong exterior. When her aquamarine eyes found his, with her clear orbs she pleaded him to do something to save her brother without saying a word and once more Galdor realized how similar her eyes were to Thranduil’s.

 

“Ride hard Galdor…” he heard the Queen say sorrowfully. “All hope would be lost if you fail to bring Elrond on time.”

 

“I will not fail…” the Steward said firmly. He looked at Leuthil’s worry filled eyes and smiled. “I beg you not lose hope for it will be Thranduil’s death.”

 

From the mention of death the Queen shivered but then nodded. Galdor smiled at her and after kissing Aleth softly he jogged towards the stables.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticism and suggestions are welcome as always


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I’m sorry for the delay, again. But this chapter was the hardest one to write since the beginning of this series. While waiting for Elrond to come I wandered a bit in Thranduil’s mind. Bits of memory mixed with illusions and hallucinations. I hope it is not too confusing or boring.   
> I have also played with Tolkien’s timeline and perhaps the destiny of some of the characters I named are not exactly what I wrote here. I have just bend them for the sake of my story and I hope Mr. Tolkien would forgive me!!!

Aleth bounced the restless baby in her arms. Tears ran down that tiny white face and two little teeth were visible as Negaar cried continuously. The Princess placed her hand on the baby’s forehead and felt the increasing heat there. Concern rose in her chest once more. Since Thranduil had fallen sick the Queen was occupied with him. The King was not in a condition to be left alone even a second since he twisted and turned in his feverish unconsciousness specially when the effect of the opium they gave him wore out and they feared he might fall from the bed. Moreover they had to continuously try and lower his heat or it would burn him. Leuthil almost never left the healing chamber and so Aleth had taken up the task of looking after her sick niece. Negaar too was not in a good condition and it made the princess fathom if the father and daughter’s sickness were somehow related.

 

She had managed to take care of the little one well enough but now the princess was restless and it seemed that there was nothing Aleth could do to calm her. She had seen how Negaar calmed to her mother’s touch sometimes and it was the only thing she could think of. Besides, Leuthil had to be informed of her daughter’s condition.

 

“Liadan!” she called and the maid hurried to her side accepting the baby as Aleth passed Negaar to her.

 

The Princess straightened her garment and stretched her arms to scare the pain away. “I’ll see if I can steal the Queen for a few seconds…” she told the maid.

 

Liadan nodded as the Princess walked out of the chamber. The corridors were crowded with guards; Imladrian and Greenwood troops. Since what had befallen the King the security measurements had become drastic. As she reached the chamber where Thranduil was hospitalized Erhan who guarded the door day and night made way for her and she pushed the door open.

 

Her brother was shivering hard in his reverie. The healer kept a bag of ice on his temple as Leuthil washed his long slender legs with a seemingly cool towel. Thranduil mumbled somethings in his sleep but it was impossible to tell what he was saying. He was all bone and skin. The proud King of Greenwood overcome by some unknown sickness.

 

The love of a sister for her brother is complicated. Since the moment Aleth had come to know herself she had also known Thranduil; her big brother, her own flesh and blood, the tall elf who was kind to her even more than her mother. She was Thranduil’s doll. The princess remembered crawling to his chambers when he used to play his harp. He would set it aside and take her into his lap. He gave her sweets and treats her parents sometimes denied. Thranduil was her hero. But Aleth grew and being from different genders brought distance between them. But her love remained the same. Like every other elleth she came to accept that in her relationship with her brother, she would be the one who showed her affection more freely. Whether it was because of her sex or not she did not know. Now seeing him like this twisted her insides. After all they had been through and after all the bitterness that had come between them she just wanted her brother to be alright again.

 

Leuthil looked up from her task and saw her there. Her eyes were weary and immediately concern rushed into them when she saw the princess. “What’s wrong Aleth?!” she asked worriedly.

 

Aleth felt sorry for the Queen. She was almost breaking under the weight of all this. The Princess had come to warn her of Negaar’s condition but she couldn’t lay more burden on her shoulders.

“Nothing…” she lied. “I just came to check on you…”

 

Leuthil eyed her suspiciously for a moment but then nodded, too weary to overthink the affairs. She turned away and started mopping Thranduil’s bare arm with the towel giving Aleth just the time she needed to beckon the healer to follow her out. She turned and left the chamber. Just outside the door she saw Holgailion approaching her from the other side of the corridor. He reached her just as Hafez the healer exited the room. Aleth nodded her head to Holgailion who bowed but turned towards the healer.

 

“Go to the royal chambers…” she ordered. “Do anything you can to calm the Princess. I do not wish for the Queen to be alarmed more than this…”

 

Hafez nodded and left without a word leaving Aleth with Holgailion. She turned to him and raised expectant eyebrows.

“Rumors my Lady…” the Lord said briefly. “They have spread across the city and the entire forest.”

 

“What rumors?” she asked.

 

“They say the King is poisoned and dying…” Holgailion explained. “Petitions and audiences have been postponed too long and the village leaders need answers. What shall we tell them?”

 

_“The truth!”_ a voice from behind them said making both of them turn to face Miklovand who appeared out of nowhere. He walked closer to them with his hands on his back. “Tell them that the King is indeed fading!”

 

“He’s not!” Aleth snapped.

 

“Then why are you hiding him away?” Miklovand challenged shrewdly.

 

Aleth glared at the captain, a gaze that the dark haired elf held evenly. “The question is…” he continued. “Who will replace him when the inevitable comes to pass while he has failed to produce a son!?”

 

“Watch your mouth Miklovand!” Holgailion hissed.

 

“Are you going to silence me for speaking the truth?” the Captain defended.

 

“I’m going to rip your tongue out and feed it to you!” the Lord growled, his hand going to his sword.

 

“Enough!” Aleth snapped. “All we need right now is the Lords of the court fighting like elflings.”

 

Holgailion stood back and released the handle of his sword but kept glaring at Miklovand who merely stood there with an emotionless face.

“No one is allowed to talk about a replacement while my brother still breathes in that chamber.” Aleth told the Captain threateningly. She then turned to Holgailion. “I will address the petitions and audiences myself.” Her gazed then darted to Miklovand who looked back at him challengingly.

 

***

 

_Thranduil ran through the forest. He had only a light tunic and simple leggings on, not the regal robes he usually wore. His feet were bare. He enjoyed the sensation of the dirt between his toes. Never had he been this free. As a prince he always had to fight against the limitations his father had placed for him, and all his life he had fought them valiantly. He struggled and bent all the regulations but he never tasted the freedom he longed for. Now was different. He felt happy and free._

_The sound of faraway laughter of an elleth echoed in the forest and he followed it. He jumped from the roots and ran between the trees to reach the sound. Butterfies and birds scattered in the air as he passed them. Reaching the lake he saw her. Dressed in the dark blue dress he had first seen her, stood his beloved._

_Hearing him she turned and beamed. Stretching her arm she urged him to go closer. He took her hand in his and closed the distance between them. Her other hand went to his face and caressed his cheek fondly. Her blue eyes were tender. All he could feel was how much he loved her as he bent his head to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. Their lips moved across each other in practiced harmony and her taste filled his mouth as he slipped his tongue inside her warm mouth._

_Wanting more of her he circled his arms around her and flushed their bodies together. He could hear his heart drum on his ribcage and burning heat consuming his body. Long he had been denied of the joy of holding his beloved and he was hungry. He needed her like lungs needed air and flowers needed water._

_She pushed him away tenderly only to find enough space to start undoing the laces on his tunic. Her hands worked nimbly and with those blue eyes she looked up at him with mischief as she smiled. Tugging his tunic up she tried to pull it over his head, standing on tip toes to reach his height. Her cold fingers brush over his skin making him shiver with delight. Once the tunic was removed she threw it on the forest floor carelessly and placed her hands on his chest. But then the joyful moment ended aas fast as it had happened._

_She jerked her hands away as if Thranduil’s skin had burned her and then moved back. Her eyes grew wide and no hint of the affectionate look remained in them._

_“Leuthil?!” he asked and took a step towards her._

_She gasped and moved back like she had seen a thing of revulsion. Her eyes roamed down his naked torso and then the look of disgust settled in her eyes. “You are not the same…” she hissed._

_Thranduil frowned in confusion and lowering his gaze he tried to find out what she was talking about. Disgust filled his own heart as he saw his own body. Skin over bone, wrinkled in some places like the pierced balloons the children of the men made from gall-bladder of the sheep. Thranduil was never one to be ashamed of his body, partly because he had a beautiful one. And yet now he had a great desire to cover himself, to hide his nakedness from the one who once loved and cherished every part of his anatomy._

_“Stay away from me…” her words cut through the air and through his heart.  “You’re disgusting…”_

 

 

Thranduil’s eyes cracked open with a heavy gasp and he twisted in his bed startling Leuthil. She ran to the side of the bed and sank beside him placing a soothing hand on his chest. After hours of waiting seeing his beautiful eyes open was a relief, like seeing the sun after days of rain. His chest heaved from heavy panting and his eyes darted around the room.

 

“Shshsh…” she rubbed his chest tenderly feeling no flesh but the sternum bone there over the beating heart. “You’re alright.”

 

Thranduil seemed not hear her and it discouraged the Queen as she saw his eyes already lose focus again. “Thranduil…” she called choking on the lump that was growing in his throat as if begging him not to leave her.

As if shaken from his reverie for a moment, his eyes stayed on her face for a few seconds. To Leuthil’s surprise they filled with tears before giving in to his feverish sleep and close.

“I love you…” she whispered knowing that he did not hear her.

She leaned and showered his face with kisses, her own tears dropping on his face. Her hands trembled as she caressed his hair, once bright like melted gold, now dull and shabby. In her heart she refused to think about the worst but she knew, she could feel through their bond, that Thranduil was giving in. her hands tightened and she grabbed the blankets unthinkingly.

 

The knock on the door made her jump and she managed to wipe her tears before turning towards the door to face Daitrid.

 

“My lady…” he bowed glancing at the King.

 

“What is it my Lord?”

 

“There is a matter that requires your attention.” He said calmly.

 

Leuthil stood and regarded the lord with raised eyebrows. “My lord you can see that I am terribly occupied at the moment…” she said annoyed. “What could possibly be this important?”

 

To her surprise Daitrid smile gently and took a step closer to her. “Come my Lady you should see this…” he said placing a hand on her back.

 

Just then the door opened, Hafez entered and bowed to them. Daitrid acknowledged him with a nod before turning towards the Queen again. “See, sir Hafez will watch over the King...” he said. “This will only take moment.”

 

The Queen sighed and gave up. They walked out of the chamber and through the corridors. By the way they were going she suspected they were heading towards the throne room.

“As you know my lady, rumors have spread across the realm…” Daitrid explained as they passed the underground corridors. “Everyone is talking about the King being poisoned.”

 

“Are you taking me to the throne room to address the rumors my Lord?” Leuthil asked frustrated.

 

“Lady Aleth had already done that my Lady…I am taking you to see something else.” Daitrid said patiently as he came to a halt behind the backdoor of the throne room. “The old healers of the Silvan believe that milk is an efficient antidote for people who are poisoned. They say it washes the toxin from blood and purifies the body. King Thranduil’s subjects have also learned this from their healers.”

 

After this strange explanation that left the Queen more confused than before Daitrid pushed the doors open and stood aside for her to enter before him. Leuthil stepped inside and after the rush of light to her eyes faded she gasped at what she saw.

 

A huge crowd was standing in the throne room. They were hundreds of people, mostly commoners and some village leaders Leuthil recognized. The tail of the crowd had extended out of the room and into the various halls. All the people had bowls in their hands containing a liquid Leuthil recognized to be milk.

Aleth was standing beside the throne and she smiled at her as the Queen walked forward in awe from the many people gathered in the hall. The chatter stopped when the people recognized her.

 

While the sudden silence was extending to besome uncomfortable an ellon came forth with a wooden bowl in his hands. The milk inside nearly poured out as he lowered his head in a bow. “My Queen…” he said. “Rumor has it that the King has been poisoned. Valar damn who has dared to do this…”

The murmur of concurrence rose in the hall.

 

He then pointed at the rest of the elves behind him. “We are all livestock owners…” he explained. “Our lives have improved during the years because of our king’s perceptiveness and aid.” He then showed the bowl in his hands. “We have all come to bring milk from our cows to his majesty…They say it purifies the blood and chases away the poison.” he said. “We hoped that perhaps our milk could help, and if not please accept this as a gesture of gratitude for what King Thranduil has done for us and that we remember.”

 

Leuthil just stood there in awe unable to believe what she was seeing. Hundreds of faces looking at her with bowls of milk in their hands and sympathy in their eyes for none other but her husband. She knew the trick will not do any good since they had already tried it but it warmed her heart none the less. Thranduil was loved still and it gave her hope. He was a Sindar king among the Silvan and Leuthil knew how much it took to gain their trust. She felt pride in her chest to be his wife and hope for him to get better. But for now the Queen was pinned to her place and speechless as the Silvan organized themselves in a line and placed their bowls of milk on a platform in the throne room.

 

***

_The training ground of Amon Lanc was a vast clearing in the middle of the forest beside a small lake where the novice soldiers bathed after hard hours of tough training. In that particular day the air was cool but the soldiers were boiling from the rush of blood and some had taken off their light tunics as they sat around in a large circle and watched the best of their peers fight each other in a brotherly combat after the day of unmerciful exercise._

_Lyndon was a fierce fighter and as he swung the wooden sword Thranduil could hardly follow the path of the fake weapon. However the Prince was also one of the best among his cohorts and after defeating Melgor, Shifa and Huler he was not going to yield now._

_Ducking his head, he missed Lyndon’s well aimed sword. The soldier’s guard went down for a moment and gave Thranduil just the amount of time needed to hit him on his side. Lyndon gasped and stumbled forward giving the Prince access to his arm which he twisted. “Yield! Yield!” Lyndon yelled and Thranduil released him. The soldier circled his arm a few times and with a defeated smile he left the pitch to collapse at the foot of a tree. Thranduil looked around rather merrily still panting. “It there no one else?” he challenged the others. His eyes darted on the dark haired ellon who rose to his feet. “I propose a challenge…!”_

_Thranduil’s eyes roamed up and down Miklovand’s form; his broader shoulders and stronger stature. “I accept…” he said with a raised chin. Miklovand took up his wooden sword lazily as Thranduil took off his sweat soaked tunic and threw it on a nearby branch leaving his torso naked unlike his step-brother who was wearing layers of guard uniform. The action elicited giggles from the girls who were also roaming around, observing the combats._

_The fight started with Miklovand suddenly attacking him but the prince was fast and immediately moved, causing Miklovand’s sword to cut the air in vain. But the dark haired elf did not weaver. He swung his sword mercilessly and lounged at Thranduil who only defended by stopping the blows in midair. The Prince then turned in a complete circle to avoid a blow allowing Miklovand to catch his arm and twist it. A cry of pain escaped him but Thranduil was shrewd and even in the agony of his arm almost breaking he saw that Miklovand’s guard was down. Using one long leg he kicked his step-brother in his groin._

_Miklovand let out a yell and released Thranduil’s arm. In a moment of distraction he raised his own wooden sword and hit the other on his back which in turn made Miklovand gasp and stagger away from him._

_Thranduil sniggered seeing his step-brother like that. Miklovand’s dark eyes found his and they radiated hatred. The prince held his gaze and did not weaver trying to project as much loathing as possible. However he noted how Miklovand’s gaze turned from him and he straightened himself and bowed his head as did all others who were present. Knowing something was going on behind him, Thranduil turned abruptly only to face his father standing tall and strong behind him._

_Gathering himself Thranduil dropped the sword and stood with his hands tied in front of him, head lowered in courtesy. However with his naked sweaty torso he knew he had displeased Oropher._

_The King walked closer. His piercing gaze on his son. “You fight well for someone your age!” he said, his tone sending shivers down Thranduil’s back. “But do not fill your chest with pride, for as the prince you must be the best!”_

_Thranduil did not raise his eyes but inside his head he cursed his father. Even when the King complimented him once in a lifetime he always had a way of ruining it right after. But the Prince did not dare say anything._

_Oropher regarded him for long breathless moments before speaking again. “I propose a challenge…”_

_“My lord?!” Thranduil’s wide eyes shot up._

_“Will you not accept?!” Oropher raised his eyebrows challengingly._

_“I do!” Thranduil said immediately._

_“Good!” the King grinned as he started taking off his long robe. He hung the expensive attire from a branch leaving his fit body in a simple dark tunic. Then he looked up at his son expectantly. “Choose a real weapon my Prince!”_

_Thranduil’s heart sank in his chest and he could swear it was beating somewhere around his navel. Though he was one of the best in his own group he had only fought with his real sword a few times. His confidence was not high in that regard. But the King’s word was order and he was too stubborn to back off now._

_The King unsheathed his long sword just as Thranduil picked up his own. They started circling each other. Thranduil’s breath was caught in his throat and he could hear his heart drum in his ears. But Oropher was relaxed and this was what unnerved the Prince more. Unlike what he usually did Thranduil lost patience first and attacked. His father was fast to react catching Thranduil’s sword with his own for the slightest moment making him swing around himself._

_“Patience my Prince!” the King said with a hint of mockery in his voice._

_Thranduil’s blood ran hot. He picked up his sword again and attacked. Once more he was caught just like the first time plus Oropher hit him hard on his ass with his sword. His painful hiss went unheard among the sound of laughter that came from the audience._

_Oropher too smirked. The humiliation was killing him and he was not able to think properly so he just attacked again just to wipe that mocking snigger off his father’s face. He managed to rain Oropher with fast blows forcing the King to defend. But once again he was pushed away with his father’s stronger arms. When he attacked again he was shoved aside by Oropher’s side and he fell to the ground._

_The sound of laughter rose again as Thranduil tried to gather his tired limbs. The mockery somehow gave him power to rise again. He saw the snigger on Oropher’s face turn to a smirk that might have had admiration behind it, but he did not get a chance to think on it as this time the King rained on him blow after blow. He deviated each blow with rising his sword to meet his father’s, however after what seemed like a dozen of merciless hits his arms were too tired to obey him and again he fell back on his rear._

_“Come little prince!” The King smirked over the laughter. “Yield!”_

_“I won’t!” Thranduil hissed as he rose to his feet yet again by sheer willfulness._

_“Very well!” Oropher mocked as he watched his son stand on unbalanced legs. “Let’s see how long your stubbornness will keep you vertical!”_

_It proved that until well past noon Thranduil erected himself only to be thrown to the muddied forest ground again and again and again. The audience came and went. Some finally gave in to exhaustion and left the show that Oropher was presenting for hours. Only Miklovand remained, standing silently in a corner and watching his step-brother fall and rise over and over again._

_Every cell in his body hurt. His head throbbed where it was split by the handle of Oropher’s sword and was now bleeding. He tried to get up again but he didn’t even manage to get upright when his father’s booted foot shoved him back on the dirt. He held back a scream that threatened to escape him as the merciless pain shot up his arms and knees. His sword had fallen a few feet away and now after hours of unending combat with his father the proud Prince was a shivering mess of sweat, bruises and blood yet still he had not yielded which was why Oropher was still tormenting him._

_“Yield and end your torment Thranduil!” he heard his father say in a tone that sounded almost sympathetic._

_His blood boiled in rage. The humiliation was too strong for him. He would knock himself unconscious from exhaustion but he would not yield to his father. Rage gave him false energy and he dived for his sword. Screaming in anger like an angry bear he grabbed it and attacked his father. It was only by Oropher’s years of experience and fast reaction that he was able to stop his infuriated son. He diverted Thranduil’s sword away in one powerful motion and with a speedy hand behind his son’s head the King pulled him towards himself placing his sharp long sword on Thranduil’s throat with his other hand._

_The Prince stopped dead on his track, his face an inch from his father’s, the strength on his King’s hand behind his head, the cold of the sword pressing on his throat, his neck trapped between Oropher’s sword and hand. His aquamarine eyes were wide with fire and fear as he looked up at his father. Instead of mockery or anger he saw what could be called admiration behind a softened gaze._

_“It was a great happiness watching you grown to this willful young prince…” Oropher’s warm breath caressed his face and the King’s eyes softened and he gave his son a long withheld smile. “You make me proud Thranduil…” the Prince knew his heart would burst out of his chest any second. His father’s gaze then changed and he looked sorrowful as he continued. “But as years go by your innocence goes along with them…and we drift apart.” Oropher’s hold grew firmer behind his head. “It saddens me Thranduil…”_

_Their gazes tied; green with sea-blue, and for a moment Thranduil saw the father he used to know when he was not but a toddler._

_“Ada!” the excited scream of a little girl snapped them out of their trance._

_Before he knew the coldness of the metal was removed from his dried throat and the force of the hand grabbing his sweaty hair was gone as well as his father’s warm breath._

_He raised his eyes heavily as his father ran to the little elfling that was running towards them on tiny feet. Oropher picked up his daughter and threw her in the air eliciting a set of excited giggles from the little girl. In that moment all Thranduil could think of was how much he envied Aleth and how much he wished to be in her place._

 

Miklovand watched his step-brother on the bed. Now he could surly call it Thranduil’s death bed for to him the King was truly dying. At first he used to twist and turn and wake every hour or so but now it seemed that even the strength for that had left him. It was amazing what a silly little poison could do to the mighty King of the Woodland, how it would run through his veins and destroy his cells one by one.

 

 

 

The Captain always remembered Thranduil to be graceful and annoyingly handsome, some ellons may have even called him beautiful but Miklovand was smart and could tell that they were all jealous. He couldn’t blame them. Thranduil was everything every other ellon wanted to be. He was tall, he was handsome with that long golden hair and strangely dark eyebrows, he was intimidating with those piercing eyes, and he had every girl on his heel. Moreover he was the prince, the only son of the mighty king Oropher. Miklovand never envied Thranduil’s life. The others merely craved for this life because they never saw the inside of it; the expectations, the arguments, the conspiracies. The only thing he envied was Thranduil’s position as Oropher’s son.

 

Oropher never gave Miklovand a feeling that they were different. He was kind to him, he cared for him and he even showed more compassion towards him than he showed Thranduil. But Miklovand had seen it; the way Oropher looked at Thranduil when he knew the Prince was not aware, the way he worried for him while he masked it behind anger or disappointment. Thranduil never knew and the dark haired step-brother never said anything.

 

Oropher was Miklovand’s idol. The lord who built a kingdom out of nothing while the mighty Doriath fell. It killed Miklovand to see Oropher’s legacy destroyed by Thranduil’s decisions and his worthlessness. Thranduil may have been Oropher’s son by blood but not by name. Remembering that he would be taking away his rightful place on the throne the captain smiled. He would take his father’s legacy back to its full glory.

 

He truly hadn’t planned for Thranduil to suffer that much. He would have even avoided the King’s death if he could have help it. But there was no way that his step-brother would step down peacefully and Miklovand was not up for a fight. Meanwhile while the Captain preferred a swift and painless death for Thranduil, Morey clearly had other plans and Miklovand needed her for now since she was the smart one of the two and (he didn’t care to admit) the braver one. Thranduil was laid weak and suffering before him and if he could just gather enough courage to pick up a pillow and place it on his face just enough to cut out the air everything would be easier for both of them; he would be King faster and Thranduil would die easier. His fingers twitched at the thought just before the crack of the door opening made him jump and turn.

 

“Miklovand!” the Queen raised her eyebrows walking to the middle of the room. “I’ve been looking for you!”

 

“For me my Lady?” he said politely, still breathless from the shock. “What can I do?”

 

“People have brought hundreds of bowls of milk for the King.” She explained. “I need extra security while they are in the halls, to avoid chaos.”

 

Miklovand smirked before he could stop himself. Leuthil’s eyebrows rose even further if it was even possible. “What?” she asked harshly, her irritation clear.

 

“Milk won’t save him now!” he said monotonously.

 

“It’s just a gesture of good will…” she said coldly. “Now go and do what I say.”

 

With another glance at the pathetic state his step-brother was in, Miklovand bowed to the Queen and walked to the door. Soon no one would dare order him around.

 

***

_Thranduil walked lazily through the dim corridors of the apartments that housed him and his family in Menegroth. He had been only a child when Doriath fell and walking in its massive passages as an adult seemed absurd and strange. The ceilings were high and there were tall windows on both sides of the corridors. The place was just as it used to be those so many years ago that Thranduil had played in as an elfling. He reached a wooden door that was ajar and quietly pushed it open._

_The door opened to a small chamber. There were windows on each wall. The glass had colorful paintings of elvish history and myths on them so that when the light passed through, it took various colors. These colorful lights illuminated the figure of an elleth sitting on the bed and sewing something on her lap._

_Though the elleth was sitting Thranduil knew she was tall and slender and her burgundy dress that had embroiders of leaves in its fabric was splayed on the bed. Her dark hair was tied back in a single braid and her pale face showed pure concentration._

_Thranduil dared not walk past the threshold fearing that he might disturb the serene scene laid before him. And so he merely stood there and watched his mother sew what seemed to be a small coat. Her slender fingers moved fast as it past the needle through the green cloth and the golden thimble shined on her forefinger. He watched how the colors of the widow glass reflected on her skin and how her dark hair could have so many shades. He watched until he was no longer content with watching and his heart went flying to the person who had loved him unconditionally. Stepping inside the doorframe he gently called her. “Mother…”_

_Harma raised her head and when her eyes that were identical to her son’s found him her lips curled into the warmest smile one could give another. “Thranduil…” she welcomed. “I did not hear you come in.”_

_She set her task aside and straightened her back. The colors of the window glass moved on her skin. She patted the mattress indicating for Thranduil to sit beside her. Thranduil obeyed wanting nothing more than to be close to his mother whom he had missed so much. Slowly he walked the length of the room and sat beside her. Looking down at the clothe she was sewing he found that it was a rather small vest made for a child. Seeing his observation Harma smiled. “I’m making you another vest…” she explained fondly. “The previous one hardly fits you now…”_

_Sitting next to his mother he was almost a foot taller than her and it seemed absurd for Harma to have made him such a small clothing. But he did not care, it did not matter anyway. The only thing that mattered was that she was there with him. The elleth’s warm hand on his cheek took him out of his musing and he looked up at her again._

_“Children grown so fast…” she said with a bittersweet smile and a faraway look in her eyes._

_Without thinking twice Thranduil shifted and lowered his torso so that his head rested on his mother’s lap, his long legs still dangling from the edge of the bed. Harma did not complain and once Thranduil was settled she gently started stroking his hair. Under her motherly touch he relaxed and closed his eyes concentrating on the feel of her soft fingers threading through his hair and caressing his temple. A great sorrow settled upon his heart for he knew this was not real and any moment he would lose this elleth who was the only one in his entire life that loved him without asking anything in return. Her fingers were silk and her skin was starlight. Her touch warmed him when he was cold and cooled him when he was afire. How was this possible if not magic?_

_“Is it shame…” he choked on the lump in his throat. “…that I wished I could hide inside you and never see the rest of the world again?”_

_Harma was silent for a long while as she kept stroking her son’s hair with a gentleness that only a mother was capable of. And when she spoke, her voice came in a whisper. “Children come to this world. They grow. They become fierce warriors and bring glory and honor. Then they make their own children. But as much as they want to say that they belong here they are just as scared as you and deep inside they all wish they could go back in their mother’s womb and stay in the security of that darkness…” she murmured, her hand resting on Thranduil’s cheek. “It’s not a shame to be scared Thranduil…”_

 

 

 

 

Leuthil mopped her husband’s brow with a wet towel. He seemed to be dreaming again. His eyes ran left and right under his eyelids but he looked serene while drops of tear ran down from under his closed eyes. The Queen could not know if it was a good sign or bad. From the look on the healers’ faces she considered the latter. The King was probably slipping away more and more and still there was no sign of Galdor or Elrond.

 

Worries roamed around in Leuthil’s mind. She had even considered if Galdor had been delayed or even attacked on his way but the scouts did not bring such news. All was well according to them and the roads were clear. She took Thranduil’s hand in her and pressed it. No response came. His hand was so heavy and lifeless. She feared. She was sick with fear. Insecurity plagued her heart. What would become of her and her daughter if the worst should happen? Thranduil had no son to replace him and if he faded civil war would start over the throne of antlers. The Queen closed her eyes and rubbed them firmly as if punishing herself for thinking about such things.

 

More than the realm she worried for herself. How would she survive the grief if anything happened to Thranduil? She would never live through the pain. Already her heart constricted from the thought of losing the ellon he loved. She leaned and kissed his hand, tears welling in her eyes.

 

There was a gentle knock on the door and as she bid the person to enter she turned to find Glorfindel closing the door. The Lord walked closer and observed the King after giving her a slight bow. Then he turned towards her again. “Any progress…?”

 

“He’s worse…” she whispered. “He no longer moves…”

 

Glorfindel frowned, his expression solemn. “Lord Elrond will come soon.” He said. “He would know…”

 

“I fear that he would probably reach here for the funeral!” Leuthil said almost sharply as she rose from her place beside the bed and walked to the small table on the corner to soak the towel in cool water again avoiding the Lord’s gaze. She was a bundle of complex emotions. She was scared and worried to the point of madness meanwhile the Balrog-Slayer unnerved him. She wasn’t sure if she wanted his presence in the chamber or not.

 

The firm hand that was placed heavily on her shoulder made her turn to face Glorfindel. The Lord smiled though his eyes were sorrowful. Without thinking or letting the Queen think he circled his arms around the elleth and pulled her into a firm embrace. She tensed at first not sure if what they were doing was right. But she needed this comfort and she appreciated it. The Lord’s chest was firm and strong and his arms were confident and safe. But it was the smell of him that plagued her mind. It was not Thranduil’s and still she only knew his scent. The startling sound of a piece of metal hitting the stone made them both jump apart before she could say anything.

 

Still dazed the Queen looked around for the source of the noise and she did find it after peering at the sleeping form of her husband.

Thranduil’s left hand rested on his side, dangling slightly from the bed. His fingers thin like the long legs of an insect. Leuthil followed the trail of his hand only to find his wedding ring resting on the stone floor. Instinctively she touched her own on her finger as her eyes moved back to Thranduil’s on his hand. So thin his fingers had become that the golden ring had slipped from his forth finger and dropped on the floor.

 

***

_Thranduil was an elfling like every other elfling. Perhaps not exactly like every other elfling but he was definitely like every elfling that was born in the noble families of Doriath. He may have been separated from commoners and forced to learn courtly manners from early age, but it didn’t change the fact that still he was a child and thus in the secret of his chambers which were too huge and luxurious for his size and age, he liked to play with toys and weave fantasies of mermaids and high gods just like any other kid of his age._

_From the moment he could remember Thranduil had been forced to do things he did not wish. When he could walk he was ordered to sit. When he learned to run he was ordered to walk with grace and from the moment he could talk he was ordered to listen. It had been too much for his free soul and it took a lot of effort on his part to get used to these rules. His mother was patient with him; gently showing him the right and wrongs and her warmth and tolerance somehow made it easier to accept the bitterness of the whole notion of nobility. When they came to Menegroth after his father was appointed as the first hand of Elu Thingol everything became a living hell. As Oropher’s son he had to be present at every meal that the lord ate with the royal family. He sat at a giant table which came to his eyelevel and he could see the underneath easier than what was being served over it; and all around him were conversations he didn’t have a clue about._

_The Queen of Doriath was kind to him as well. After the first meal they ate together which was a disaster in itself she ordered for cushions to be brought for Thranduil so that he could see what was going on over the dining table. She talked and caressed his blond hair calling him ‘Venie-Mahl’ [Golden Beauty]. She fed him from the exotic food and was exceptionally patient with him because of his slight stutters which was the reason that he avoided talking most of the time. Melian was so warm and kind that she radiated comfort, making the little one talk voluntarily despite his imperfection that was making progress due to the tutors and healers Oropher had hired for him. Thranduil was even adored by Elu Thingol himself and the King seated him on his lap during the meals when he was in a good mood which was the reason of the other kid’s jealousy. However all of these did not make it easier for him. Still he craved to be free and his eyes drifted towards the tall windows longingly as he thought of his friends running around the fields and chasing butterflies or planning some childish mischief._

_The manners he had to learn were worst of all since he could never fathom the reason why he should give himself such trouble. Soon he had to learn to walk with grace and while his tiny legs longed to run around the nearby woods he had to be content with walking elegantly around the library. Before he knew he was scolded for calling his father ‘Ada’ in public and knew that ‘my lord’ was a more proper term for Valar-knew what reason. Languages were supposed to be learned and of course the basics of all the sciences existing on Arda since noble folk had to be wise and to be wise your brain had to grow big and food had to be given to your brain so that it could become big and the food for brain was stupidly hard and insufferable subjects and hours of boring tutoring. He had to learn which spoon was used to eat what and how to guide the food to his fork with the heavy silver knives and more over how to stuff it in his mouth without spilling it while he had to keep his back straight and not bend and inch. Moreover he wasn’t allowed to lick the sweet delicious jam from the knife under any circumstance and had to watch the heavenly food be wasted. Still understanding his young age the King and Queen were patient and kind as well as his lady mother, however no error was tolerated by his father._

_Thranduil was used to his father’s glares of dissatisfaction but the first time that he had been physically punished was after a meal during which he had chased his beans around the dish. He remembered his hands were so small when he had placed them on Oropher’s desk for his father to strike his palms with a wooden ruler as he asked him over and over why he was being punished and his stutters did not allow him to answer properly making his father grow even angrier. He remembered that in order to place his hands on his father’s desk he had to stand on a stool since the desk was much taller than him._

_Of course he had eventually learned everything and by that time Oropher had started to go on long trips to somewhere called Greenwood and Thranduil spent most of his time with his tutors, Queen Melian and his mother. His father came to Menegroth every couple of months but most of the time he was not there. And when he asked Thranduil was always told that he was not old enough to understand. When he insisted Harma used to gently stroke his face and say that they would soon go to a new home. Thranduil was smart enough to understand that Elu Thingol was not happy about whatever it was his father was doing and on many occasions he had seen the angry King try to sway Oropher from his course. But Thranduil was too young to care about these things and the most important thing to him were how to ditch his tutoring._

_It was on one of these private tutoring that Elu Thingol suddenly burst into the chamber and without any regard for the poor instructor swept Thranduil in his arms happily eliciting a set of surprised giggles from the little one. After a lot of tickling that made Thranduil breathless from giggles the King searched in his robes and pulled out a package for him. Thranduil was denied childish toys on many occasions and he remembered the craving in his heart whenever he saw the others play with them. The plaything that was presented before him took his breath away. It was magical. It was a wooden box with a handle on its side. When he turned the handle a few times and opened the lead, the box magically played music. Soon he found himself unable to fall asleep without the simple notes coming from the music box which was one of the most outstanding inventions of the time and Thranduil was perhaps the only child in Menegroth who owned it before anyone else. The music box became his companion of long sleepless nights and his safety from the expectations of his father and his position._

_It was hard for Thranduil to just think that those happy nights were only a couple of months ago. With his young and simple brain he could not comprehend how everything changed. He remembered a feast vaguely where Melian had worn a jewel like shining stars. In that feast he had only enjoyed the chaos and the various pastries while playing with other kids. However heated conversations and rumors had arouse after that dreamy night. He remembered seeing incredibly short fellows come and go in the capital and each time they came they were angrier. His father went away longer and Elu Thingol seemed detached as well and then less happy nights followed. Until now that he was alone in his dark chamber, curling under his bed and shivering he still could not understand what was going on. Roars of rage and screams of fear could be heard from outside the room and from under the door Thranduil could see the dancing light of flames. His little heart drummed madly on his tiny ribcage and yet he was so scared that did not dare move. In his little fists he clutched on the music box that had become precious to him. Earlier his mother had gone to the fields to gather herbs telling him to stay in the chamber until she returned. He was doing exactly that but somehow it felt wrong. An unknown chaos was waiting for him outside and Thranduil knew if he did not go to it the trouble would come to him and then it would be too late. For the first time in his life he wished that his father would have been there. But Oropher was far away in an unknown land called Greenwood._

_Finally he found the courage to crawl out from under the bed. While still pressing the wooden box to his chest absentmindedly he stood on tiny frozen feet and cautiously walked to the door. He had to stretch his arm above his head to reach the handle and pull it down. The heavy wooden door swung open and Thranduil stepped out into the disaster outside._

_Everything he had ever known in his life was burning. Fire blazed through the massive windows and the velvet curtains were aflame. Flames were everywhere like tongues being poked out to mock the once proud inhabitants of Menegroth. But these were not what had Thranduil’s attention and terror. Elves were killing each other. Elves that Thranduil had never seen before had swords and were attacking the unarmed people of the underground city. Anywhere he looked were people screaming and blood splashing. The attackers had torches and burned everything in their way and among the chaos Thranduil could see the small fellows he had learned to be the dwarves; famous craftsmen and miners. They had axes and huge hammers and with wide agape mouths they hollered like wild beasts and destroyed everything. Around him chests were pierced, hands cut off and heads split open and Thranduil could see elves fall like leaves in the wind. Elves he knew. The corridors were full of bodies with vacant eyes and blood ran on the marble floors like wine in Thingol’s feasts._

_He ran. His small figure was a disadvantage since he couldn’t run fast on his little legs but his short height allowed him to go unseen by the frenzy people. Dead faces gazed at him as he ran between them panting trying as much as possible not to step on the dead bodies. It was easily said than done. The floor was slippery with blood and a gap between the bodies to set foot on was hard to find. Thranduil was panicking. He had never seen a dead body before. He had no notion of death except what he had studied in his classes. The little lord wished he had listened more carefully during his tutoring. He stumbled and fell on a corpse. When he looked up the hollow eyes of Sarab; his playmate were looking at him. She had a trail of blood on her face from the open gap where her little head had been split open and a faraway gaze was all Thranduil could find in her vacant eyes. Thranduil shivered from fear and disgust. He tried to get up but slipped again on the corpse of his friend. His throat was exploding and before he knew he was wailing from terror._

_“Thranduil!”_

_The voice was firm just like the hold on his tunic that pulled him upright and away from the dead bodies. Suddenly he was looking at Queen Melian’s dark blue eyes which were wide with fear. Her dark hair was around her face in disarray and Thranduil saw the necklace of white gems resting on her milky chest; the only sign of the royalty she was._

_“What are you doing here?!” she cried worriedly. “Where’s your mother?”_

_Anxiety and terror worsened his stutters. “I…d…d…don’t”_

_Before he could finish Melian swept him in her arms and picked him up. As she started running the Queen placed a soothing hand behind his head and gently pushed his face in the crook of her neck among the waves of her dark hair which blinded him like a dark night. “Don’t look…” she ordered._

_Thranduil obeyed. He buried his face in her raven black locks and closed his eyes firmly. Melian’s hold on his back was hard and almost painful but he did not care. Thranduil wished that he could close his ears as well so as not to hear the bone rattling screams around them. The Queen’s body moved and swayed indicating that she was still running. After a long while the screams and cries were plugged off as Thranduil heard wooden doors close and he opened his eyes just in time as Melian placed him down._

_They were in the throne room and they were not alone. Thingol was standing with his long sword drawn and pointing at the door. The Queen had her eyes on her husband. As her chest heaved from the long run she eyed him with a look between frustration and pleading._

_“Why can we not just give them the necklace?” She cried to Thingol._

_“It’s too late now!” the King turned and Thranduil could see fear in his eyes._

_The blow on the door made them all jump. Despite the several locks, the door was made of wood and it would easily break under pressure or by fire. Thranduil’s heart raced and the Queen’s hand on his shoulder did little to sooth him._

_“Perhaps it would have been better if you had left him out there…” Thingol told his wife glancing at Thranduil. “We’re trapped.”_

_Thranduil clutched on the Queen’s dress desperately as he shook. He looked up at her with tearful eyes but Melian was inspecting the throne room. Just as the doors trembled with another blow Melian pulled him towards a tapestry. She pushed it back with one hand to reveal a gap between the cloth and the wall where someone as small as Thranduil could easily hide. With a hand behind his back she urged him to stand there as she knelt dawn and caressed his face with trembling hands. “Stay here Thranduil and don’t make a sound until all is over…” she said as her tears betrayed her. “All will be well Golden Beauty.”_

_The tapestry was placed back and after that all Thranduil could see was the brownish color of the cloth and the delicate needle work. Yet he could still hear._

_“His mother might already be dead!”_

_“Oropher will definitely return for his son.”_

_“That is in case Thranduil goes unseen…”_

_Another startling blow._

_“Thingol…”_

_“Yes Melleth-nin?”_

_“I love you…”_

_This time the startling sound of the blow was followed with the noise of the wood breaking and locks giving in. Then came the roars and the screams and the cries and the sound of sword meeting sword. There was a gap where the tapestry met the wall and Thranduil couldn’t help placing one eye to see what was going on. Years later he regretted that decision since what he saw in the minutes after marked his thoughts and nightmares for thousand years._

_Thingol pushed his wife away and stood between her and four dwarves who had broken in and now had the royal couple completely trapped. The Naugrim were all hair and blood and drunken rage with axes colored with blood. Corpses of elves lay across the hall; Noldor slain by Thingol. The King was already wounded. Two of the dwarves stepped closer and easily missed the clumsy sways of the injured King’s sword. The other walked toward Melian who too was wounded on her side. Thingol yelled an insult and stumbled toward the dwarf that had dared to approach his wife. His cry hitched in his throat and a shuddered gasp escaped from his parted lips when one heavy axe landed on his back. Melian screamed and the sound burned Thranduil’s bones. Blood splashed from the King’s mouth and painted the white stone pillars of the room. Life left his widened eyes. His dead body walked a few steps on unbalanced legs before falling on the steps of his throne. Blood ran from under his corpse._

_Melian screamed and wept. The dwarves laughed like hyenas around an injured lioness. Another blow of the axe to her side was all it took to undo her and she dropped on the marble floor. The Queen of Doriath once proud and symbol of elven beauty crawled away from the Naugrim on her hands and knees, the necklace of white gems still shining on her chest._

_They stopped her pathetic crawling with booted feet on her back. She screamed and fought when rough hands tore her dress revealing white milky skin marked by blood. From behind the tapestry Thranduil saw eyes darkened and belts being opened._

_“I will fuck you with Nauglamir around your pretty neck…!” one rough voice said from behind dark beard. Screams burned his ears. For the first time in his young age Thranduil saw what could mad lust of one do to another and the picture haunted him for ages later. It was all drunken laughter and helpless screams._

_Melian died before they were even done but they kept thrusting in her dead corpse. Her faced was turned towards where Thranduil was standing hidden behind the tapestry and her eyes looked directly at him. Yet they were hollow and lifeless and Thranduil thought if she was now in a better place, if she still felt the pain they were causing her. They colored her abused body with their filth as they laughed like drunken elephants and danced around in triumph. One callused hand grabbed the shining necklace and pulled it hard. Gems scattered in the air like stars. The victors walked away on heavy feet. Thranduil closed his eyes as his legs gave in under him. Behind the tapestry he sat and leaned his head on his knees unable to even shed a single drop of tear, unable to breathe._

_Hours past and everything was silent. There was no sound, no screams…nothing. The stronghold of Thingol was a desolation in silence. The only sound was Thranduil’s quite breathing behind the tapestry. He had his eyes closed but the picture was right in front of his eyes. The King dead on the stairs, a carpet of blood under him, the Queen’s lifeless body torn and bruised and her void eyes looking at him and the crown rolling away, the necklace of starlight gems missing on the Queen’s bloodied neck._

_Thranduil realized that he was clutching on something. Opening his arms he saw that he was still holding on his music box. Thranduil was numb. He couldn’t feel anything and he no longer cared if anyone found him. His mind lingered on the fact that the elf who gifted that box to him was drowning in his own blood a few feet away. All that was left of his kingdom was a music box in the hands of a child. With a numb hand he turned the handle a few times and released. Notes floated in the air and gently broke the dead silence. Thranduil closed his eyes and hummed along with the music box._

_So deep he sank into the music that he did not hear footsteps approaching and only knew when the tapestry was gently shoved aside. He looked up with eyes wide with fear at the tall figure towering above him holding a long sword. Seeing his fear the tall elf kneeled. Grey concerned eyes found his as the elf’s black hair poured on his shoulder. The elf stroke Thranduil’s hair and wiped his betraying tears and the touch was so warm and soothing. The ellon’s eyes darted from the music box to his own aquamarine orbs and he smiled sadly with his own eyes full of tears. Then gently this elf that he did not know pulled Thranduil to his chest and embraced him. Thranduil broke into sobs and cried quietly for still he could not weep and scream as he wanted._

_“Do you know him Elrond…?” a voice asked and just then Thranduil knew that they were not alone and the kind ellon had a companion._

_The elf’s voice rumbled pleasantly in his chest as he rose while still holding Thranduil to his chest._

_“I believe he’s Oropher’s son…”_

_“We should send a messenger to Greenwood…” the voice said. “Oropher has to return.”_

_“I saw his mother outside…” the elf holding him said. “If you can find her fast Lindir I will bring the little one in a few moments. She was going mad with worry.”_

_The ellon’s gentle hand caressed his hair and the elf’s finger under his chin made Thranduil look up at the dark haired Noldor. “I’ll take you to your mother…then your father will come and take you both home.” the ellon smiled warmly. “All will be well…”_

_Thranduil did not understand what the elf meant by home. Menegroth was their home and it was a ruin now. But he did not think of it. He was exhausted and could not think. The elf’s eyes were assuring and warm and the need to trust was too much for Thranduil to resist._

 

 

His eyes snapped open and he craved to move his aching body. Yet it seemed that no strength was left in him to even move a single muscle. For an instant he could not tell where he was. The King moved his head right and left in alarm and once more waves of intolerable pain flashed in his body. But he did not stop moving and in great anxiety he tried to sit up only to find himself struggling in his blankets. Panic washed over him and his blurry vision did not help him either. Two strong hands cupped his face that was covered in cold sweat.

 

“Calm Thranduil…” the dark haired ellon that came to his sight commanded firmly. “All will be well!”

 

Thranduil’s hard breathing calmed and he found himself unable to disobey as he looked back at the same grey eyes he had come to associate with the same Noldor who had found him in the ruins of Doriath.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't for get to review and comment :D


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly died so my delay is excused!!! :D

“Seat him up!” Elrond ordered firmly a tingle of haste visible in his voice.

 

Galdor obeyed without question just as the Queen had obeyed the Lord when she was asked to leave the chamber though she was not happy about it. Despite his kindness, Elrond had an air of authority around him that made it difficult for others not to obey.

 

The steward slipped his hand between Thranduil’s burning body and the mattress and pushed him up marveling in horror at the how soaked the sheets were. It terrified him once again that such little force was needed to move the tall Sindar. He helped the King up in a sitting position with as much tenderness as he could find yet Thranduil moaned from pain in his half consciousness his head falling forward. It was hard to tell when he was awake anymore. His eyes were constantly closed and he had almost no control over his body movements leaving his form limp and lifeless.

 

As the Steward stood behind Thranduil with one knee on the bed and acting as a pillar for the King to lean on, the Peredhel immediately undid the loose laces in front of the Sindar’s tunic to reveal his pale bony chest. He then placed his ear on Thranduil’s breast like someone trying to eavesdrop behind a closed door. After listening to the King’s heartbeat for a while with his head he indicated for the Steward to take off the light tunic completely.

 

Galdor obeyed and once the King’s torso was naked and the tunic tossed aside, the Peredhel started inspecting every inch of his body. The Steward watched anxiously, hoping that Elrond would find a clue that might lead them somewhere. Yet the Peredhel’s grim face showed that he was not satisfied at all. Either he had not found anything or he had found something he did not like at all.  

 

After examining Thranduil’s spine he mentioned for Galdor to lay the King back on the mattress. Galdor did so as Elrond started examining Thranduil’s arms and when he reached the King’s soft pale hands his frown deepened further if that was even possible.

 

“Had you seen this on him before?” the Noldor asked.

 

Galdor peered from the other side of the bed to see what Elrond was talking about. The Peredhel had Thranduil’s right hand in his own and holding out the King’s first two fingers and thumb to show the strange color on them. It was as if black ink had stained Thranduil’s long slender fingers while writing.

 

“No my Lord…” Galdor said. “It was not there before I left.”

 

Elrond examined the King’s hand a while more and then compared it with his left hand before placing it back on the mattress. Then he went to the chair where he had placed his huge sac of medical kit and opened it.

 

“Except these strange spots there is nothing to show there is any kind of poison in action…” Elrond said while he searched in his sac. “There’s only one way to know.”

 

Galdor watched as the healer pulled out a bottle containing a transparent liquid like water. He opened the lead and poured the substance in a ceramic bowl that was placed on the bedside table. When he pulled out a dagger from his belt Galdor tensed. Sensing the Steward’s distress the Peredhel explained.

 

“This liquid has no smell and is tasteless and colorless, just like water…yet it has a great chemical ability.” Elrond said. “It was made by Imladrian chemists, they call it the _Revealer_ …when a few drops of blood is mixed with it the color changes…if the blood is pure the liquid would turn the same crimson as the blood just like water. If there is toxin in it, the Revealer changes color.”

 

Galdor mused a while on how pioneer were the Imladrians when it came to science and what a good decision Thranduil had made to improve his relations with them. He then circled the bed to hold the bowl for Elrond as the Peredhel made a small yet deep scar on Thranduil’s palm, drawing some blood. The King frowned and moaned but made no other complaint.

 

The Steward watched as drops of blood dropped in the bowl one after the other. The crimson color mixed with the transparent liquid. Elrond wrapped the small scar with a stripe of white linen while waiting for any reaction in the bowl. They watched for a long while until the whole liquid turned to a rich shade of red. To the Steward it seemed that Hafez’s assumption was right. They had to believe that Thranduil was just fading, just like many others. Perhaps the toll of years was becoming heavy on his shoulders. Just as the Steward was losing hope what they were waiting for happened.  

 

Slowly the Revealer started changing color. It was as if a small vortex of blackness had started swirling in the bowl. In a painfully slow process the liquid turned darker and darker until what was left in the bowl was a black substance like the ink they used to write with.

 

Elrond’s grey eyes found Galdor’s. They both knew what the other was thinking yet they did not know to be happy or fearful of this news.

 

***

 

  
Sitting in the afternoon light coming from the tall windows of the royal chambers, Leuthil absentmindedly rocked the cradle in which her daughter was asleep. This cradle was made of the finest black wood and pictures of flowers were painted on it with gold ink. It was a gift from Aleth when the Queen had given birth to her niece. Not long had passed from those days and Leuthil could not help but wonder how they suddenly found themselves in such trouble.

 

She smoothed the fine hair of the baby while she slept soundly. It was already dark and thick like her own. But she had Thranduil’s eyes whenever she looked up at her mother with the intelligence she only found in her husband. Her heart twisted. Would she ever see those eyes of his again she did not know. She feared and no matter how much she tried not to think of it the worse circumstances came rushing to her. If Thranduil were to die, she would die along with him. The Queen did not care about these last months during which her husband had turned cold towards her. She now believed that his avoidance was because of his state and she blamed herself for not trying harder to reach out to him. He had curled around his painful solitude like a wounded bird and she had allowed him to do so. The guilt was suffocating.

 

In her restlessness the Queen looked up at Aleth, sitting on the nearby couch, waiting for a news just like her. Her golden hair hung in unruly curls around her face; so alike Thranduil’s in color and so unlike his in state. Her aquamarine eyes so similar to her brothers were fixed on a vase and Leuthil could swear she was not seeing it. Her arms were crossed on her chest and she had one leg draped over the other, shaking it, the only indication of how distressed she was. The entire morning they had waited and still no news had come. The Princess finally sighed and rose from her seat restlessly.

 

“I’ll take a walk outside…” she declared. “Otherwise I’ll go mad!”

 

She did not wait for a response as she walked out of the chamber and closed the door a little too hard. Leuthil glanced at her daughter to make sure she is sleep before sitting back on the couch. She toyed with the ring in her left hand rolling it around her fingers. She had not dared place back Thranduil’s wedding ring on his thinned finger, fearing that it might fall again and perhaps no one would find it this time. His fingers were now nothing but bone. Again guilt welled up in her. And she felt a great flood of love for the ellon fading in the other room overwhelming her. If Thranduil awoke she would place this ring back on his finger and she would make sure he got fat enough for the ring to fit him once more. She would never leave his side again.

 

The knock on the door made her jump. Normally no one disturbed her while she was in the royal chambers especially now that they knew her swinging mood. She sat up and wiped the tears she had shed unknowingly. “Come in...” she called, her heart pounding. Perhaps someone had brought some news.

 

Her maid Liadan entered. Her hands were full with a large basket full of daisies, perhaps hundreds of them. She walked inside the room and gave the Queen a slight courtesy. Leuthil eyed the basket suspiciously raising her eyebrows.  

 

“I did not know you had an admirer Liadan…” the Queen remarked.

 

The maid blushed. “They are not for me my lady…” she explained. “They are for you…”

 

Leuthil frowned. Who would send her flowers? “For me?” she asked. “From who?”

 

“Lord Glorfindel my lady…” Liadan said. “Shall I put them on the table?”

 

For some reason her heart started pounding again yet she knew that it was not the same love but a childish thrill that made it so. But Glorfindel was wrong to send her this. She was not daft and knew well what the lord was playing at. Yet she belonged to another, she loved another and the flowers had to be wild roses that grew in springs beside the river in Amon Lanc not dead daisies in a basket. Yes she loved another and she had always loved him.

 

“Take it back to the Lord.” She said. “Send him my thanks, yet tell him that I cannot accept his gift.”

 

***

 

“It’s true that we do not yet know what has made him such, yet at least we know it _is_ indeed poison.” Elrond explained hastily as he dug in for something in his magical sac taking out different bowls and tools Galdor did not know, the Silvan wondered how that small sac could hold so many things. The Steward and Galion who had been summoned in for help were now obeying the Peredhel’s instructions and undressing the feverish King completely. “Moreover…” the Lord continued. “With those spots on his hand I believe I might have some idea as to what type of poison it might be.”

 

With that Elrond found what he was looking for and turned towards them. He had a bottle in his hand but his fingers were covering the contents so the Steward’s attention went to the Peredhel’s words instead. “What type of poison…?” he asked.

 

“A poison that is probably absorbed by skin gradually.” Elrond answered gravely. “But for now let us use the only way we know to save him.” He then uncovered the mysterious bottle making Galdor gasp and Galion make a stupid squeaking sound.   

 

At first sight Galdor knew what those wriggling black worms in the bottle were. Spending so many years in the woods the Steward was attached to nature and just as every other Silvan he loved almost every leaving creature in the forest; however _leeches_ were not one of them. It was impossible to find anyone, even among the Silvan, who would have any kind of sympathy towards those blood sucking, wriggling, greasy worms. Galdor could easily guess what the Peredhel had in mind and he doubted that Thranduil, who became petrified by the sight of an innocent little spider crawling his wall, would mentally tolerate a dozen of leeches sucking out the poison out of him.

 

“Is there no other way?!” the Steward choked eyeing the black disgusting creatures in the bottle. “Can you not use an antitoxin or something? A milkweed perhaps or Athelas?” he added hopefully.

 

The Peredhel smiled patiently. “When I do not know what poison has done this to him, how can I find an antidote Lord Steward!?” he asked good-naturedly. “Whatever I use might worsen his condition if it’s not the right antidote.”

 

“If you wish to make him bleed then there are other ways!” Galdor tried again hoping to sway Elrond.

 

“By scaring him on fatal points?!” the Peredhel smirked bitterly. “And then how will we stop the bleeding? He might fade from blood loss since he’s so weak.”

 

Galdor opened his mouth to protest again yet he was interrupted by the healer. “Do not worry Galdor, I assure you, this method might be disgusting but it’s the safest and the only one we have in this situation.” He then approached the Sindar on the bed who was shivering with his eyes closed. Gently he reached out and opened one of Thranduil’s eyelids revealing that strangely the King was awake and yet too weak to open his eyes or say anything. The Peredhel huffed out the air. He had hoped to get this over with while Thranduil was unconscious or at least sleep. This would make it harder for his patient but there was no other way. As if sensing the tension slowly the King cracked his eyes open. His ill eyes found Elrond’s and the lord smile reassuringly while stroking his hair. “This is going to be a little hard Thranduil.” He said tenderly. “But I promise you, all will be well.”

 

The Sindar watched him for a while with no particular expression before he lowered his eyes to the bottle and its contents. The speed with which Thranduil tensed made the occupants of the room jump and the bed to whine under him. His eyes grew wide and with the little strength left in him he grabbed the sheets and in a hopeless attempt to crawl away from the disgusting treatment.

 

Elrond sighed, knowing that Thranduil was not going to make this any easier for them. He turned again and went to his bag looking for something. Galdor looked helplessly from the healer to Thranduil who seemed on the verge of dying from fear as he trembled not even able to keep his eyes open longer than a few seconds. When the Peredhel turned again he handed Galdor and Galion stripes of silken cloth. Seeing Galdor’s questioning look he explained bitterly. “Tie him to the bed. I can’t have him move and detach the leeches.”

 

Elrond had not even finished his sentences that Thranduil’s eyes snapped open and he tried to crawl away on his arms nearly falling off the bed. Galdor lost all doubt in that moment. If this was their only hope he would not have Thranduil shatter it by his childhood demons. He nodded to Galion and yet did not wait for him to join as he marched to the bed with a few long paces and started wrestling a very weak Sindar. Thranduil’s protests and twists were feeble yet wholehearted as if his life depended on it. He was no match to Galdor’s healthy warrior strength but he definitely could make enough trouble for the Steward not to be able to immobilize him. He kicked and writhed with his extremely thin limbs and the wailing sounds he made as he begged them scratched Galdor’s heart with a hundred sharp nails. When Galion joined him to restrain his King Galdor saw that the ancient butler was crying hard. It must have been hell for him Galdor thought. As Thranduil’s friend he was on the verge of losing his mind from sorrow and depression and yet Galion had been the Sindar’s caretaker since he was but a child. Dedicating his life to the young prince the old butler did not have a family of his own and his sole aim in life was to look after the little prince who later became his King. It was a nightmare for him to see the one whom he loved and cherished like his own son in such a pitiful situation.

 

“Hurry up Galion!” the Steward barked, already managing to tie Thranduil’s left wrist and ankle to the bed posts and going for his left while Galion had not yet managed to restrain the King’s right arm with his own trembling hands. Galdor just wanted this torture to end faster and when they managed to finally immobilize him the Steward ran his hands over his face to chase his own wayward tears again.

 

Thranduil still writhed though he had little room to move, and he cried while pleading them with words that were fast losing coherence. The Peredhel was already opening the lead of the bottle while Galion had retreated to a corner of the room holding his ears in his hands so as not to hear his beloved King’s pleads. Galdor sat at the head of the bed and started caressing Thranduil’s hair, damp and dull from minutes of struggle and days of sickness. He wiped the tears that seemed to have no end and murmured reassuring nonsense in that leaf shaped ear that was much more delicate than his own and was now red with fever and fear. He tried to block Thranduil’s view of what Elrond was doing and yet when the Peredhel placed the first disgusting creature on his abdomen the King arched and cried as if he had been burned.

 

Everyone had his own fears in life. For example the Steward dreaded dark and damp places, perhaps because it reminded him of the dark nights of his childhood when they did not dare light a candle fearing the hungry wolves. Galdor knew well Thranduil’s dread of some special insects. He remembered the young Prince crawling into his bed in the middle of the night because of nightmares about giant grasshoppers or simply because of spotting a tiny cockroach in his bathing chamber. Many times he had found him standing on the bed and not daring to come down for a spider roaming around his room. To force him to face his worst phobia like this was cruel. Galdor knew that if someone trapped him in a damp dark room and tell him it was his medicine he would probably have a panic attack just like his King.

 

By now the healer was placing the third leech, now on Thranduil’s inner thighs, the blackness of the creature having a great contrast with Thranduil’s pale skin. Once placed on the body the worms immediately started sucking out the blood hungrily. Galdor could hardly look as the Peredhel left five other on Thranduil’s long legs and then placed one leech on each of his wrists and then one on his chest where his heart was beating rapidly, choosing the points where blood would be most.

 

Thranduil’s protests had died down to whimpers and endless tears that ran down his face as he sobbed pitifully quiet knowing that nothing would sway his savior from his course.

When the Peredhel indicated with his eyes for Galdor to turn Thranduil’s head sideway for him to put a leech on the main vein on of his neck the Steward’s eyes widened. But when he saw Elrond’s seriousness he decided to trust and gently turned Thranduil’s face towards himself. “Look at me Thranduil…” he whispered gently hoping that his friend did not note the broken tone in his voice. 

 

Thranduil obeyed though Galdor knew he had no strength to do otherwise. Those dull aquamarine eyes that were welled with tears found his and the Steward hope that Thranduil could see the regret in his own eyes, that Thranduil would understand. But Thranduil seemed far away inside himself and he only let out a weak moan and closed his eyes when Elrond placed the last leech on his pale tender neck; it seemed that he was broken at last. Galdor could only hold and caresses the Sindar’s face who had shut them out completely by closing his eyes now. The only indications that he was still awake and suffering were his heaving chest and quiet sobs.

 

Elrond stepped back and crossed his arms on his chest, his face solemn and yet a trace of sympathy was visible in his eyes. Except Thranduil’s whimpers the room was silent as the leeches sucked and sucked the blood…and they waited. Galdor could see that slowly the disgusting worms were being filled and they became fatter with blood. Where they sucked on Thranduil’s skin was bruising rapidly. And then it happened. After what seemed like ten years the first leech on his abdomen suddenly dropped on the mattress and then wriggled until it fell on the stone floor and died immediately. Then those on his legs and thighs dropped and Elrond gathered them fast from the mattress however those too were already dead as well. The ones on his chest and neck kept sucking a while longer until they too dropped and died.

 

***

_Thranduil did not know how long he had been away from his father’s hunting party and he did not care. The nature called to him and as if he was driven with an alien force he could naught but answer. Somewhere along the way he had kicked off his boots and had no head for finding them again. The feel of the mossy forest floor under his bare feet was divine and he loved the way the soil found its way between his toes. Who cared about the King’s hunting party when there was the forest floor to feel, the trees to hear and scent of river to smell._

_Yes he could hear the trees and it was his secret. Now he could vaguely understand their excited chat as they welcomed him through shaking their leaves in the wind._

_He did not know how but he walked until he reached the river which was slow in that part of the forest and the beauty of the scene in front of him made the Prince gasp. A huge stag was there, with breathtakingly long and sharp antlers. He had lowered his heavy head and was drinking from the forest river making slow circles on the water surface._

_Though he had to be afraid of those antlers and strong stature, Thranduil walked closer. Sensing his presence the stag raised his head and was startled by seeing him this close. The animal jumped a few steps back and turned to run._

_“Don’t run…” Thranduil shouted after him disappointedly. “I won’t hurt you.”_

_As if understanding him the stag stopped running abruptly and turned his massive head, big eyes gazing at Thranduil. The Prince searched in his pockets for some food and was happy to find some carrots he had stolen for the horses. With hands that were shaking he took the vegetable out and stretched his hand towards the animal._

_The stag shook his ears and hoofed his front leg. But then he started walking towards the Prince with careful steps. With his long legs he crossed the width of the river easily and came to a halt in front of Thranduil. He craned his neck and ever so slowly took the carrot from Thranduil’s hand, his moisten mouth grazing at the Prince’s fingers. Breathless Thranduil watched as the stag munched on the carrot and wondered if there is a sound more beautiful than the noise an animal you have just fed makes while eating the food._

_When done with the carrot the stag looked up at him again expectantly. Thranduil opened his palms to show his empty hand to the animal but the stag had no head for food as it took a step closer and nuzzled his nose in Thranduil’s hair and neck. The thrill was maddening; knowing those deadly antlers and teeth were so close but believing that they will not hurt you. The Prince dared more and raised his hand and placed it on the animal’s neck. The stag did not complain but started licking Thranduil’s ear. The Prince caressed the huge neck, running the heavy fur between his fingers. He took a small step closer and without knowing why hugged the stag’s neck._

_He could feel the stag; could feel his powerful heartbeat and the running of blood in his veins. The animal remained immobile as well as if he too was feeling the elf who was hugging him. The warmth of the stag’s body was so welcoming and secure and Thranduil closed his eyes, relishing this moment before suddenly the stag jumped away from him and made a startled sound. Before Thranduil could know what happened the animal had ran away disappearing in the forest._

_“What were you doing?!”_

_Miklovand’s voice made him jump and turn towards the dark haired adolescent who was standing a few feet away from him. The Prince was still breathless and his eyes searched between the woods for any trace of the stag, for any sign that it was not a dream._

_“Where you hugging a stag?!” Miklovand said, a hint of mockery in his voice._

_Thranduil turned towards his step brother. His heart was still pounding fast in his chest and he wondered how much the other had seen. Even among the elves such close relations to animals was odd. When he did not answer Miklovand walked closer standing face to face with him._

_“Of course you were hugging the animal!” he smirked. “Those are the companions you deserve, tree pixie! You even stink like them…”_

_“I don’t stink!” Thranduil hissed as he started walking away. Miklovand sniggered as he followed him close behind._

_“Yes you stink of horse shit and stag urine!” the dark haired provoked. “You might as well grow some antlers, they’ll look nice on your girlish head!”_

_Thranduil lost his patience as always and attacked his step-brother. The two adolescents grappled with each other like lion cubs. As usual Miklovand was the stronger one and managed to bring down Thranduil to the mossy ground and land on top of him. The two wrestled with their arms scratching and punching each other until Miklovand managed to pin both Thranduil’s wrists above his head with one of his huge hands and with the other he mercilessly punched the Prince in his crotch._

_Thranduil could not help the painful cry that left his throat and all the air escaped his lungs in a single second. Miklovand’s sniggering face blurred for a moment and when he saw the dark haired raise his hand to punch him again, the Prince knew he would black out. But before Miklovand could land his hand on him again he was shoved aside by huge antlers pushing him away from the Prince._

_Despite the pain Thranduil managed to turn on his stomach and slowly rise to his hands and knees. When the dizziness left him he looked up only to find the same stag trapping Miklovand between his antlers and a massive tree. Thranduil sniggered when he saw the pest crying like a child._

_He didn’t get to enjoy the scene long though as an arrow swished past him and landed right in front of the stags back hoof. The stag jumped back and released Miklovand from the cage he had made for him then he turned towards Thranduil. The Prince however was looking at his father’s hunting party who were running towards them on foot and had their arrows aimed at the animal._

_“GO!” Thranduil cried as he jumped to his feet and ran to the stag in an attempt to scare him away. “They will kill you! RUN!!!”_

_As if understanding his words the stag turned and ran away deep into the forest. Thranduil turned towards the hunting party that were ready to shoot their arrows his father in front of them._

_“Move away Thranduil!” Oropher barked, one eye closed as he aimed for the stag._

_Instead Thranduil ran and placed himself in front of his father’s bow. Oropher frowned and looked at his son with angrily. “What do you think you’re doing?!” the King yelled as he lost hope for shooting the stag. “Those antlers could have killed your brother!”_

_Thranduil did not answer instead he looked over his shoulder to check that the animal was not there. Seeing that the stag had disappeared into thin air the Prince smiled though a deep sorrow settle in his heart. Behind him he heard Miklovand yell at the top of his lungs like a mad man._

_“What does he care about his brother…!?” he cried. “I found him hugging the beast like crazies! He’s a FREAK!”_

_Thranduil did not care what the pest was saying. He peered between the forest trees. Hidden behind leaves and branches, far away he saw hazelnut eyes watching him and antlers that could not be distinguished from branches. A smile crept on the Prince’s lips. Freak or not he did not care._

 

 

***

 

As she stood in the green courtyard that evening Leuthil could not believe how fast that year was passing and yet how painfully slow. It seemed it was only yesterday that amid the first snow Aleth had lost her son. And yet months had passed and now it was already the middle of summer. They were approaching the summer festival but the Queen did not have the mood for it. It was natural she thought. Recently she had had nothing to be happy for. Her daughter cried almost all day and her husband whom she had thought had stopped loving her was dying behind closed doors in a chamber she was not allowed to enter.

 

Her eyes gazed up at the stronghold towering above her proudly and she found the window she was looking for high up in the stone. It was where Thranduil was hospitalized and where the Lord of Imladris was treating him. Her heart pounded fast. Would the Peredhel come out of that room successful remained to be seen and the Queen feared. Elrond had gone straight to that room when he had arrived yesterday morning. The Lord, Galdor and Galion had stayed there the whole day and then the whole night and now it was well into the next day and still no news. Erhan was placed behind the door and did not allow anyone pass the corridor and now Leuthil was almost losing her mind. Leaving Negaar with Liadan and taking a walk in the courtyard did not help either.

 

“My Lady…”

 

She sighed hearing Glorfindel behind her and yet a strange thrill ran down her chest. It seemed that the Balrog Slayer hunted her every step. She turned in time to see the Lord bow his head and then look up at him with a hard expression.

 

“My Lord…” she nodded.

 

“Are you alright?!” he asked.

 

“Should I be?” she raised her eyebrows.

 

The lord did not answer instead with his eyes he followed the trail Leuthil’s gaze had gone a moment ago and he found the said window, the only link of the closed healing chamber with the outside world.

“I’m sure if something bad had happened they would have let us know?” Glorfindel said.

 

Leuthil merely shook his head and turned away the wind dancing in her long locks of hair. She could feel the Lord’s eyes on her, the silence between them heavy until Glorfindel broke it.

“You sent back the flowers I sent you…” he said in whisper.

 

“I believe they were misplaced…” the Queen said solemnly.

 

“They were meant for you…” the Lord said.

 

“I am a married elleth my Lord…” she reminded.

 

Glorfindel lowered his head. The Queen could not tell if it was an embarrassed expression or something else. “You might have accepted them from a friend to another…” he said weakly looking up at her again. “I hoped they might lighten your mood a bit in these dire times.”

 

Leuthil did not know how but tears started welling in her eyes and the lump in her throat was threatening to suffocate him. “I love him…” she tried so hard not to sob but failed. “And he’s dying…” she whispered. “I can’t focus on the meaning of the daisies you sent me while he is fading…”

 

She did not mean to be cruel but she was helpless. The last thing she could think of right now was the meaning behind Glorfindel’s actions. In fact in those days she did not care. She only thought about Thranduil and what would become of her if he faded and could only hope that the Balrog Slayer understood him since he truly did not wish to upset him. To her delight the Lord smiled however it was the bitterest smile one could give.

“I understand…” he whispered and reached to slightly squeeze her arm as if he was afraid to embrace her but wanted to do so much. “I just want you to be happy…”

 

The Queen looked away and could not answer. She felt rather than saw the Lord take another step towards her and his warm breath touched her skin. She still did not turn and hoped that Glorfindel would give up and leave her be. The Lord opened his mouth to say something but a third voice interrupted him.

 

_“My Lady…”_

The both jumped apart hearing Erhan’s firm tone and the Queen looked up at the approaching sentry with eyes that were still tearful. The guard reached them. he eyed Glorfindel almost angrily but said nothing before turning towards the Queen with the same frown.

 

“Come my Lady…” he said. “The King’s awake. He’s been asking for you.”

 

***

 

He still felt nauseous. His head swirled and his vision blurred every now and then but despite all these he felt like a reborn soul. Though each breath burned his lungs and his weak body still shivered from the remaining of the fever, his mind was sharp and he was more awake than what he had been for the last couple of days. Still he could not fathom how he got there and how an unknown poison as the others told him had taken him to the edge of death.

 

He felt Galdor shift beside him as he sat on a chair near the bed. Turning to look upon the Steward heightened his dizziness and he closed his eyes to stop his head from spinning. When he opened them again he saw Galdor looking back at him with a smile that had many unsaid words behind it. The Steward’s dark eyes talked with a thousand emotions in them, saying how glad he was that Thranduil was better. The dark circles under his eyes however showed the exhaustion and the anxiety he had gone through. Despite not truly feeling well Thranduil smiled back at his friend.

 

On his other side Aleth was sitting beside him on the bed and continuously crying. Her eyes were puffy and swollen and Thranduil could no longer say when she was weeping and when she was laughing. However now both his sister and brother in law were silent.

 

“Where is Leuthil…?” he asked for the third time in that ten minutes.

 

“She’ll be here.” Aleth said rubbing his hand. “I’ve sent for her.”

 

Though her tone was soothing Thranduil felt some kind of an excitement in his heart, like a love sick youth who was going to see his lover after a long time. He felt a craving he had not felt for a long while so when the door of the healing chamber opened his heart threatened to burst out of his thin chest. However he was disappointed somehow when he saw Elrond walk in.

 

The Peredhel smiled when he saw him sitting in his bed and seemingly better.

“How is my termagant patient?” The dark haired elf approached the bed with long strides.

 

Thranduil fought the urge to role his eyes and merely looked up at Elrond with innocence. “Your methods lack delicacy my lord!” he defended.

 

The healer chuckled as he inspected the bandages on Thranduil’s wrist as the King held out his hands for him like an obedient child. The bandages smelled like Athelas. Elrond seemed satisfied with the result as he let go of the King’s wrists and went to the small table next to the bed and started making some tea.

“The herbs are working well…” he explained as the sweet smell of the tea scattered in the room. “No mark of the leech bites will remain…”

 

Thranduil thought to give the Noldor another cheeky comment but decided better of it fearing that his vertigo might worsen if he used his mind too much. Instead he merely nodded before turning towards Galdor again.

 

“Who has done this to me?” he asked.

 

“I do not know!” the Steward shook his head regretfully. “But we’re already investigating…we’ll find who is behind it.”

 

“I must warn you…” Elrond’s voice startled them from the other side of the chamber. “The threat of the poison has not been resolved yet. You still do not know what it is and it may still be a threat.”

 

Thranduil and Galdor exchanged worried glances but it was Aleth who spoke.

“Do you have anything in mind my lord?” She asked sitting straight.

 

Elrond rubbed his chin and thought for a few seconds. He looked as if he knew something but was not sure if he must share it. “I may have a guess.” He finally said.

 

“Do share my Lord…” Thranduil demanded.

 

Elrond frowned and started pacing the room deeply in thought. “If we consider the gradual way this poison has effected on you and with those spots on your fingers I can say for sure that this is a kind of poison that is absorbed by skin.” The Peredhel explained.

 

“I’ve never heard of such a poison!” Aleth gasped expressing Thranduil’s surprise as well.

 

“There are various types of poison my Lady…” Elrond smiled at the Princess. “Some must be consumed, some may be breathed in the air…and some can be absorbed by touching.” He then started pacing the room again as he explained. “I studied many tomes before coming here once I heard about this situation. By what I have seen I can only guess that the poison affecting you was a toxin derived from mercury…”

 

The other occupants of the room exchanged surprised looks with each other. Thranduil’s tired mind was working frantically. They had no form of mercury inside the stronghold or in the forest. They never used the metal in any of its forms, it was not customary among Silvan elves. So then how could he have been poisoned by it when it did not exist around him? As if hearing his silent question Elrond voiced the answer. 

 

“Anyone who wishes to poison you has probably applied some form of it on your belongings…” the Peredhel said. “The things that you touch every day and all the time.” He continued pointing at Thranduil’s right hand resting on his abdomen.

 

Thranduil’s heart sank in his chest and was now beating somewhere around his stomach. By the look on Galdor’s and Aleth’s faces they were equally awed by this explanation. It scared them and they were all thinking the same thing. A mind that could function like this could do many other dangerous things and the King had been merely lucky to escape the deadly hands of Mandos.

 

“I suggest Thranduil…” Elrond continued gravely looking at him straight in the eye. “That you immediately destroy all your belongings.”

 

Along with the awe and horror, a deep sorrow settled in the King’s heart. His mind drifted into the things he had trying in a vain mental attempt to remember his belongings and when certain objects came to his mind his heart twisted. His contemplation was becoming frantic before the door opening stopped his thoughts.

 

Leuthil rushed in the room and stopped in the middle to look at him with disbelief as if she had seen a ghost. She merely looked at him; eyes wide and observant; red from crying, lips slack in shock. He too just gazed at her as if he was seeing her clearly after a long while. It was true. He had been seeing his beloved through the veil of his sickness; no longer remembering their love but fearing her reaction to his weakness. He was still weak and he was still disgustingly thin and it would take time for him to recover fully but he saw now that she loved him and he believed that she would stay beside him.

It was Elrond’s chuckle that snapped them out of their trance.

“Well let’s leave the couple alone…” he said already taking his leave.

 

Galdor tapped Thranduil on his shoulder lightly as he rose. “We’ll find the culprit…” he assured before heading for the door.

Aleth kissed her brother on the cheek and followed her husband and they both left the chamber after Elrond, closing the door behind them.

 

Slowly the Queen approached the bed and sat on Thrnaduil’s left side. Her eyes were welled with tears but Thranduil could tell they were tears of joy. His heart beat like a love sick bird inside the cage of his chest.

 

“You scared me…” Leuthil whispered, choked by the lump in her throat.

 

“I know…” Thranduil murmured. “I’m sorry.”

 

He gasped when she leaned in and their lips touched in a sealing kiss. His head spun but not from sickness. It was not a lustful kiss, not a messy stimulating meeting of tongue and teeth. It was just a firm touch of lips; an affirmation that all would be well and all is forgiven. When they ended it she hugged him, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. His arms circled around her shaking body and he murmured soothing nonsense to her as he caressed her back.

 

She could feel his bones under her body and it broke her heart. But mostly it made her angry, she wanted nothing more than to find the culprit and make whomever it was pay for what he had done to Thranduil. She calmed herself with the thought that the damage done was remediable.

 

The knock on the door made Thranduil tense and she felt it. She smiled at him before calling for the person to enter. A maid opened the door and walked inside the chamber with a tray of food in her hands. She gave them a courtesy before placing the tray on the bedside table and leaving silently.

 

The smell of food filled the air. The dual sensation of hunger and nausea stirred in the King as he looked upon the freshly baked bread, still hot from the oven and the sweet smelling honey and the dark colored tea.

“I can’t eat Leuthil…” he protested.

 

“You must…” she said simply as she broke the bread in small pieces and started applying the honey on them.

 

Thranduil watched her in silence before he asked. “Have you seen my ring? It was not on my hand when I woke.”

 

Leuthil smiled, her heart fluttering for the fact that Thranduil cared about the sign of their marriage. She pulled the ring out from her robes and handed it to him. “It fell from your hand…” she explained. “So I took it.”

 

Thranduil happily took the ring back and placed it on his finger. It was ridiculously big and fell off on the blanket when the King held his hand down. He sighed sorrowfully as he picked it up. “I guess I should have a new one made…” he said.    

 

“Oh no…” Leuthil protested as she snatched the oversized ring from her husband. “I’m going to keep it until you’ve gained enough weigh to wear it again.” Then with her other hand she brought a morsel of bread and honey in front of Thranduil’s mouth.

 

The Sindar chuckle as he opened his mouth to accept the food biting Leuthil’s fingers lightly to make her giggle. She sat there for what seemed like hours and fed him from her hands making sure more than half the loaf and all the honey were gone as well as the tea which Thranduil accepted happily since the food weighed heavily on his still sick stomach. However he felt less dizzy after eating though still he had a slight fever.

 

The tea had a sleeping draught in it and already he felt sleepy. The Queen tucked him gently and made sure the blanket covered him completely.

“Now that you’re fed…” she said, fussing with the pillows now. “I should go see to it that Negaar’s stomach is full as well.”

 

“Bring her to me in the morning…” Thranduil murmured sleepily. “I miss her.”

 

“I will dear…” she said.

 

“And have Elrond see her as soon as he is well rested…”

 

Leuthil nodded with a smile and leaned to kiss him one more time. She blew the candles one by one and left the room in utter darkness. Thranduil gave in to sleep almost immediately.

 

***

 

He woke up from the sound of the door opening and the morning light attacking his eyes. He remembered he had been dreaming of ugly leeches and giant spiders but he couldn’t recall exactly. He was just glad to be awake though his body trembled and he still had a fever. His body, covered in cold sweat was tangled in the soaked sheets and he struggled to lift himself and lean his back on the headboard.

 

Elrond was the one who had entered his chamber carrying a tray of what he may have called medical things. The Peredhel had a friendly and yet firm attitude that gave him the permission to enter his patients’ privacy without permission. Thranduil did not remark on it but he wondered if the Noldor had ever annoyed any of his patients with that attitude enough for them to voice it. He just smiled and answered Elrond’s morning greeting.

The healer set the tray on the bedside table and approached him.

 

“How are you?” he asked placing a hand on Thranduil’s brow.

 

“Feverish and weak!” the King murmured.

 

“That’s normal, you’ve not recovered completely yet.” Elrond said as he started undoing the bandages on Thranduil’s wrists. “It will take weeks for the effect of the poison to wear out completely.”

 

To that Thranduil merely nodded and he remained silent as the Peredhel then removed the satin cloth from his ankles as well. He watched then as Elrond applied the ointment he had made from Athelas on the bite marks. “If you would allow me to give you another treatment, your recovery process would become faster…” he said carefully as he wrapped up the wounds with new and clean cloths.

 

“With the leeches?!” Thranduil asked cheekily.

 

“Yes.” Elrond’s response was dry with raised eyebrows.

 

“Then don’t even think about it!” Thranduil said equally dry.

 

“You should give my leeches a little more credit since they saved your life!” Elrond chuckled tying the satin around Thranduil’s ankle and went for his wrists again.    

 

“I thought they were all martyrized during the process!!!” the King said with a smug grin making Elrond chuckle more.

 

“They did…” Elrond agreed. “Since your blood that they sucked was toxic.”

 

“So I owe you a life and a dozen leeches!” Thranduil sighed dramatically.

 

“You don’t owe me anything!” the Peredhel said as he sat back and smiled.

 

Thranduil smiled back settling his head on the pillows again. He still felt dizzy and feverish and despite his stomach that rumbled with hunger he did not think he could leave his bed at that moment.

 

“Did you see my daughter…?” he asked the healer.

 

“Not yet…” Elrond said packing his medical things. “I was planning to go to the little princess right now.”

 

“Thank you Elrond…” Thranduil said sincerely. “For always supporting me.”

 

“Your friendship is valuable to me…” Elrond smiled.

 

“My friendship has brought nothing to you but trouble…!” Thranduil reminded.

 

“Don’t think of these things young one…” Elrond said tapping Thranduil’s cheek affectionately like a father teasing his son. “You’ll need your strength since we’re going to deal with horrible things in the north I suppose.”

 

“I’m hardly young anymore Elrond…” Thranduil chuckled bitterly. “In fact I think I’m considered ancient!”

 

Elrond chuckled at that and pulled the laces of his sac. He opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by the loud noise of the door opening and Leuthil’s maid who stumbled into the room making them both jump.

 

“M…m…my King…” She stuttered but fell silent in her anxiety.

 

Thranduil wanted to scold her for her uncourtly behavior but seeing her demeanor he thought better of it and instead he sat up alert. “What is it Liadan?” he barked hoping that his harsh tone would startle the maid to talking.

 

“The Queen…” she stammered. “She’s locked herself in the royal chambers and refuses to open the door!” she started sobbing in fear. “Please my Lord; you should come!”

 

 

 


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well since the cliffhanger was really cruel and I knew I was not going to post a chapter for at least a week or two I decided to break the next chapter to two parts and post one today.   
> So apologies if it's a small chapter. 
> 
> Once again I thank those who have read and kudoed and specially those who have commented. You mean the world to me.

“Thranduil…Come back!”

 

He ignored Elrond’s call, bidding him to stay in the bed, reminding him that he was still very weak and very feverish. He was surprised that he had not yet collapsed from the tremble in his limbs and the blur of his vision and the extreme vertigo. The stone floor of his stronghold felt mercilessly cold under his bare feet as he ran for the chamber he shared with his Queen, his steps made almost no sound and the robe he had cared to wrap himself in felt strangely oversized on his bony body.

 

He could not care less about the Peredhel’s calls or his sickness. He heard nothing and felt nothing; only the fear that something was wrong with Leuthil. She was his love, his heart and soul and she was his to protect. If something had happened to her he would not live through it. A strange cold had settled in his bones as if night had arrived and morning was never going to come again. He hastened his pace.

 

Upon reaching the chamber he saw that already a whole lot of people were there. He spotted Aleth, Galdor and even Miklovand and many servants, most of them Leuthil’s maids, forming a wall of flesh around the door.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor saw him and approached, from his call the others also noted his presence and stood aside. “You should not be here!” the Steward said in a neutral yet firm voice. Thranduil ignored him.

 

“Leuthil has locked herself in!” Aleth explained tearfully without him asking.

 

He approached the door aware of the eyes watching him wearily as if he would fall apart any second. He knocked on the door weakly but enough for anyone inside to here. No answer came.

 

“Leuthil…” he called surprised at how raising his voice took so much strength from him.

 

“Go away…” the muffled voice of his wife came from behind the door.

 

“Leuthil my love…” he called again not caring if he sounded like pleading. “Please open the door…”

No answer came and she did not open. His heart that had kept a strangely steady pace up until now started beating erratic like the drums before the war. Fear and alarm rose in him and threatened to blur his vision again. But he would not have it. The King stood back and his eyes found Erhan standing behind Galdor.

 

“Break this door…” he ordered. The sentry’s eyes widened and he looked back at him like a dumbfound adolescent. Anger and frustration overwhelmed him. “Did you not hear me?!” the King yelled.

 

The guard immediately made his way through the small crowd and stood in front of the entrance. With his heavily booted feet he kicked the door. Thranduil had no time to comment on Erhan’s strength or tell him how impressed he was that his sentry broke the door with one kick. He just burst into the room indicating with his hand to the others not to follow him inside since he knew not what he would find.

 

The morning light had found its way in the chamber despite the curtains. He found Leuthil sitting on the bed with her back towards the door facing the window. Her spine was bent in defeat and her hair was gathered in a messy bun. He could tell she was holding Negaar. Everything else in the room seemed unnervingly normal.

 

Thranduil approached the bed with silent slow steps. Circling the Queen he came to stand in front of her and it was then that his fear and worry turned to complete horror. His eyes grew wide and he could swear his heart stopped beating. A numbness crawled in his veins. His knees felt weak.

 

Holding their baby Leuthil cried silently and she rocked in hysteria. Negaar’s eyes were open; glassy and pale aquamarine staring at a point which did not exist. The curiosity and intelligence was gone, the life and youth was not there. From her small mouth a trail of foam was visible. The paleness of her skin showed she had been dead for hours.

 

Thranduil knew he would die that second. His heart had stopped beating and his lungs were not working. His mind could not register the scene before him and dismissed it as a joke; an ugly stupid joke. For him it had no meaning. Elven children who passed the few first days of life never died. And besides no one would kill a child. No one could be this cruel to kill a child. This was a joke.

 

Leuthil looked up from their daughter. She was not sobbing. Tears merely streamed down her cheeks. With blue wet eyes she looked at him. His Queen looked old.

“She will wake…” she said trembling. “She’s just asleep…”

 

Thranduil was a green land turned to desert by drought. He was an eagle whose wings have been cut. He was a stronghold that was burning to ash. It was true. His daughter was asleep yet she would not wake and he knew it but wished not believe, like a warrior who does not wish to believe his hands have been cut. His eyes felt uncomfortably dry.

 

“Leuthil…” he whispered, in a calm voice that surprised himself. “Give her to me…”

 

“No!” the Queen cried. “She will wake, just wait and see!”

 

The mental wreck of his wife ruined him even more. She clutched to their baby and rocked her as if it would bring the life back to her body. Thranduil knew her precious daughter was dead and he would morn until the end of the world but Leuthil was alive, though barely, and he had to take care of her. He felt a strange power in himself to reach that aim.

 

Slowly he kneeled in front of her, looking in her eyes. “I know she’s not dead…” he murmured with a smile he did not know how he managed. “I just want to hold my daughter…”

 

Leuthil gazed at her with doubtful eyes but then she trusted him like a little girl. He smiled and stretched his arms slowly taking Negaar from her. Despite the blanket wrapped around her, the King could feel the coldness of the body. It seemed heavier and lifeless. His stomach twisted.

 

Thranduil rose to his feet slowly, Leuthil did too, her eyes never leaving their beloved. Even when Thranduil turned around towards the door she peaked over his shoulder as if savoring the sight of their child, their firstborn, the daughter that was going to be the oldest of many offsprings.

 

The King looked up and his gaze found Miklovand’s dark ones. His step-brother was staring at his baby wide eyed. Thranduil could tell the Captain was hardly breathing. The dark haired elf looked back at him and Thranduil knew he understood the message he had tried to convey without words. Miklovand stepped into the room slowly, almost as slow as Thranduil was approaching him with Leuthil clutching the back of his robe. With painfully slow movements the captain stretched his arms to take the baby from Thranduil. Just as his fingers touched the dead princess Leuthil started bawling. She screamed and howled like a wounded wolf and tried to get her hands on her baby like a lioness whose cub had been taken by a hawk. Thranduil let go of Negaar, leaving her in Miklovand’s arms and turned to stop the Queen from hurting herself and everyone else in the room. She screamed and he yelled louder telling her to calm though he knew it was impossible. So instead he yelled at those useless people outside to call the healers, to call for their potions and hopeless teas to subdue her. As he wrestled his wife whose power had become almost equal as him for his weakness and her hysteria he felt that Miklovand managed to overcome his horror and fled the room, taking his dead precious with him.

 

***

 

The screams and wails coming from behind the closed door twisted Miklovand’s heart even though he felt he was hearing them from a very long distance as the sounds muffled in his ears. His arms felt heavy and it was with great difficulty and fear that he looked down at the dead baby in his arms.

He had not signed up for this. He had not predicted this when he had applied the poison on Thranduil’s long beautiful quill made of eagle feather. It was amazing what a silly little feather could do to a stupid little King. But the Captain had not been aware of the lateral damage and Morey never warned him.

 

From the foam on the child’s mouth Miklovand could tell she was poisoned, there was no doubt in that. His stomach twisted. The Captain wanted to become King yet he had his lines. Children were off his limits if he could help it. Children were innocent especially girls, they should never be involved in their games. But now he was holding Thranduil’s dead baby, while Thranduil was still alive. Not only he had not achieved anything but he had caused an innocent little girl to die. He had destroyed the future she may had had. He had destroyed the beauty that may have graced this world and replaced it with this cold limp body. Morey would pay for not warning him. He felt sick and sinister.

 

“Miklovand…” Galdor’s voice snapped him out of his horrific thoughts and he looked up at the Steward. Though he was stern his voice shook and he was gentle when he looked at the Captain. “Give her to me…”

 

He could not move his hands. Not that he did not want to give the dead Princess to the Steward but it was as if his muscled were disabled. In fact he wished he could pass the baby to him, perhaps a little bit of the guilt he was feeling would fade.

Galdor’s hand on his shoulder was encouraging and he allowed the Steward to slip his hand under the baby and take it from him. The guilt weighed down on him heavier.

 

Galdor glanced at Negaar once before closing his eyes. Perhaps he was trying to suppress his tears, perhaps he was just disgusted by the cruelty of the world. Behind him Aleth burst into tears as three healers disappeared in the royal chamber.

 

“Miklovand!” again Galdor’s firm voice snapped him back to reality. “Send a message to Lord Alheru, tell him to return quickly.” The Steward said. “His daughter needs him now.”

 

***

 

Empty rooms were many in the wing where the royal family were housed. It was in one of these guestrooms that Galdor went to hide the dead baby from prying eyes. If he was honest with himself he also wanted to shelter himself from the cries and the gasps of the servants.

The little princess felt flexible and cold in his arms and when he laid her dead body on the made bed she splayed like liquid. Around her eyes had turned dark and the foam around her mouth was drying by itself from perhaps hours of neglect. It made him nauseous. His heart was not beating and he felt guilty for not being able to find the culprit and undo his or her schemes on time.

 

The door opened and closed and Galdor turned to see Elrond enter as well as Aleth who was crying silently. The Peredhel had a solemn expression when he came inside and he went straight to the dead little body. Galdor wanted to protest but thought better of it. The little one was dead, what good would it do now to protect her. Instead he went to Aleth and hugged her as she cried on his chest.

 

Elrond paid no mind to them as he examined the baby, his brow furrowed in sorrow and concentration. After a while he sighed and wiped the foam away from the baby’s face and then slowly closed her wide open eyes.

 

“My assumption was right…” he declared as he straightened his back. “It is indeed mercury poisoning.”

 

“Was she poisoned as well?” Aleth asked between her sobs.

 

“Yes but not directly I suppose…” the Peredhel rubbed his eyes.

 

“What do you mean my lord?” Galdor asked puzzled.

 

“A father touches his daughter…” Elrond said calmly. “The poison might have spread to her by her father’s touch…”

 

“Surely it could not have affected her so severely if that was the case…” Galdor protested trying to save Thranduil the blame. “Perhaps the cradle was tainted or her sheets…”

 

“In that case she would have died much sooner as she was a baby…and Lady Leuthil would have been poisoned too.” Elrond reasoned.

 

Galdor fell silent again. There was nothing more he could say when the circumstances were so tragic. He only wondered what the Queen was going through and what Thranduil would go through once he knew what had caused his daughter to die.

 

***

 

Leuthil’s bawls finally died after the healer’s draughts finally took affect and she fell into an agitated slumber, and with her the room sank into a screaming silence. She was curled up on a corner and suddenly the bed seemed so huge comparing to her form. What had Thranduil done to her? He had promised happiness but all he had brought to her was pain and misery. And now she was abandoned on the bed after hours of hysteric wrestling like a broken doll; dolls that he had planned to make for his daughter when she was old enough to play. Her hair splayed in disarray and tears dropped from her closed eyes indicating that even in her dreams she was crying. At least she _could_ cry for Thranduil found that he could not.

 

In fact he had that lump in his throat that was growing bigger by any second threatening to choke him but his eyes were dry as was his throat. Cold sweat ran down his spine and when the droplets passed upon the deep long scratches Leuthil’s nails had cast on his shoulders and jaw they burned him. But the burn was nothing comparing to how his heart was afire, the flames burning his chest and lurching his stomach. His hand went to his skinny chest and grabbed the fabric there as pain shoot from his chest. The pain was so much that he no longer felt it. The King stumbled a few feet back until his back hit the wall. He did not hear the healers call him nor did he see them as they gathered around him. He just sank against the wall as his knees gave in under the agony. Thranduil had become an orphan before but there was no name to call how he had been bereaved now…he was nameless.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are welcome as always.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's late but it's here and it's very long :D

When cold soothing hands caressed his hair, Thranduil raised his head with great difficulty as if tons of iron were inside his skull instead of his brain. His eyes were still blurry and the dim light of the room did not help either but the King remembered where he was after a few seconds. He was in his chamber sitting on a chair beside the bed on which Leuthil had been drugged to sleep for the third or fourth time during two days. She was still sleeping there and Thranduil realized he too had fallen into an agitated slumber with his head on the edge of the bed. He looked around the room and from the darkness he knew it was still night; though how deep into the night he could not tell. He also noted Galion standing at the foot of the bed, picking the edge of his tunic warily.

 

“Thranduil…” he recognized Galdor’s voice coming in naught but a whisper from behind him as his gentle hands removed the awfully dull hair from Thranduil’s face and neck. “Come with me…”

 

The King’s eyes immediately sought his wife. She was asleep and there was nothing he could do to help her or to sooth her. The pain was too strong and he was so helpless. She had been so restless that Elrond had deemed slumber as her only solace for now. Galdor grabbed his arm and tugged gently, urging him to rise. He obeyed without question and straightened himself on shaking knees. His feet where still bare and aching with a dull pain.

Galdor placed a hand on his lower back and together they walked towards the door which Galion held open. Thranduil could not fathom where they were going but he simply trusted and obeyed. His mind was tired of trying to figure out the few reason’s that were left for his existence and he had no strength to think about other things as well.

 

They passed dim corridors and then entered a chamber which Thranduil recognized as the apartments Aleth and Galdor lived in. His sister was there, already dressed in a black garment and she rose from where she was sitting on a couch when she saw them enter. Thranduil was aware of her eyes scanning him with concern but he did not care. For a moment he even wanted to ask why she was wearing black in the middle of summer.

 

“I’ll go to Leuthil…” Aleth declared unnecessarily. With another piteous glance at her brother she rushed out of the door.

 

The room sank in silence when she left and closed the door behind her. Galdor gently pressed the King forward and they passed another door leading to the bathing chambers. When the three of them were inside Galion closed the door.

 

The bath was already set, probably by Aleth since no servant seemed to be awake at this hour. Hot steam danced above the warm water temptingly and Thranduil felt his muscles ache for the comfort of it. In fact it was the first thing he was feeling in his body after two days of absolute misery.

He felt Galdor’s hand on his waist, unfastening the band of the robe he didn’t even know he was wearing above his sleeping gown. The Steward then pushed the clothing off his shoulders and handed it to Galion.

Thranduil did not protest when Galdor started unlacing his tunic and then pulled it off his head leaving him bare.

After handing the tunic to Galion as well Galdor turned the King towards the bath and with a heavy yet gentle hand on his shoulder he pushed him down into the hot water.

 

His muscles twitched at the sensation of the water engulfing him and he closed his eyes. He heard the door open and close and assumed that Galion had left but he did not see the frustrated expression on the aide’s face nor did he see the tears in his butler’s eyes. But Galdor saw, so he walked out of the bathing chamber as well, rather angrily. The door was half open allowing the King to hear what Galion and the Steward were saying.

 

“What’s the matter with you?!” he heard Galdor bark.

 

“He’s not ready…” Galion hissed.

 

“I know he’s not, he will never be. But it’s been two days and we cannot wait longer.” Galdor explained impatiently. “In a few hours mobs of people will gather in the courtyard and they expect to see their King…”

 

Already feeling the pressure Thranduil pressed his hands between his thighs and curled into a ball as if this position would protect him against harm and the outside world. He heard shuffles and then Galdor walked back into the chamber carrying two bucket of water which he placed beside the tub. He sat on the edge with rolled up sleeves and tenderly started washing Thranduil’s hair.

If his heart was not so heavy perhaps the King would have enjoyed the feeling in his scalp as Galdor tended to him but he felt nothing; only dread and unmerciful sorrow. As Galdor rubbed the dirt from his strands he started speaking.

 

“It’s not wise to wear your own robes…” he said, not mentioning why it was not wise. “I set aside some of my clothes for you. With the weigh you’ve lost I think they’ll fit you.”

 

With that he picked the bucket and poured the water on Thranduil’s head slowly, washing the soap and foam away. The King closed his eyes as the water ran down his face and neck and then his back. He could tell every single drop going down his spine but he could feel none of them. But somehow his heart felt slightly lighter now that he was clean. Thranduil merely wished he could wash away the memory of those last days as easily as the grease in his hair. He opened his eyes and turned to look at Galdor who was now scrubbing his skin with a mop.

 

“Is it dawn yet…” he asked, his voice barely audible.

 

“In a few hours…” Galdor said pouring another bucket on his naked body. Then he rose from the edge of the tub and circled it to kneel down in front of Thranduil.

With his brown eyes the Steward looked at his friend. Concern and fear were visible in his orbs.

“Thranduil we’ve waited too long…” he whispered fearful of the effect of his words on the King. “We need to bury her.”

 

Thranduil’s heart sank and it made him sick and he was thankful for his empty stomach. They were going to put his daughter, his beloved child, six feet under the ground and then cover her with soil, just like they had done to his father. He shivered and curled further retreating to the side of the tub. Galdor’s soothing hand found his chin and made him look up. With his eyes the Steward begged him to understand. He understood well. Leuthil was under no condition to leave her chambers and he would not have Aleth remember her own dead child by attending such a ceremony. Thranduil knew that he was the only family member capable of doing this and able to meet the expectations of his people and their traditions. It was expected of him to do this and he understood that he was alone. The King nodded his understanding and saw a flash of relief in Galdor’s eyes.

 

Shortly after Galdor had him out of the tub and gave him some privacy to dry himself as he went to fetch the clothes he claimed to have readied for Thranduil. When the Steward returned he helped the King put on his leggings and knee high boots which Thranduil noted were polished probably by Galion who was nowhere to be seen. They were trying to make him as presentable as possible.

 

Galdor then helped him into a black velvet tunic and did up the buttons one by one before adjusting the shoulders. Thranduil watched him in silence and surrender until at last Galdor pulled up the collar to cover the scratches made by Leuthil which had darken into bruises. The Steward seemed satisfied with his work as this was the best way he could present a King who had lost his daughter not two nights ago. He caught Thranduil’s eyes and the sorrow in them twisted his stomach. If he could do this instead of his King he would have done so gladly. But hearing the Princess’s death many village leaders, lords and ladies and even common people were coming to pay their respects to their King and Queen and Galdor knew public anger would rise if Thranduil would not show up or would postpone the inevitable longer.

 

“This will be over soon…” he whispered gently as he fussed with Thranduil’s hair. The King’s eyes showed that he merely wished to be left alone.

 

The light of the dawn was slowly finding its way inside the chamber, telling them that soon they would have to go. Thranduil’s eyes sought the window and he watched the sun as it rose above Greenwood too fast for the King. No longer would he wake up every dawn to sneak upon his daughter’s cradle excitedly. No longer would he hear her cooing and babbling. He would never watch her grow up and become a lady.

 

The door of the chamber opened slowly and Galion returned with a bundle of white sheets in his arms. He was crying silently. Galdor glared at the aide for his weakness where he had to be strong but when he turned towards Thranduil his gaze was soft. “It’s time…” he said.

 

Like being pushed by an alien force Thranduil walked up to Galion and took his dead daughter from the aide’s hands. Galdor walked closer to him. The king wished he could have a little time to get ready for this but he knew he would never be ready. So they opened the door and walked outside.

 

***

 

Thranduil’s heart beat like the drums of war as the three waited for the gates to slowly open. He could hear the people outside and his anxiety escalated to an overwhelming degree. He had hoped to at least have a little privacy while burying his child. He wanted to say goodbye in peace. The concept of leaving his daughter in a cold graveyard still seemed hurtfully absurd but as the gates swung open and he saw the huge crowd gathered at the gates all wearing black in his and Leuthil’s respect suddenly the matter seemed so real and more painful if that was even possible.

 

Seeing the King the crowd fell silent and slowly made way for him as if organized from before. Thranduil had to pass through the gap that was made for him and his companions. He had noted Erhan, Holgailion, Daitrid and Miklovand outside and they came to stand around him like a loose veil of protection. Galdor nudged him forward. When the King took his first step he immediately regretted his decision for going to Haron Hollow on foot. The graveyard was just a few minutes’ walk from the stronghold but it seemed that the crowd was stretched all the way from the tall gates of stronghold to the humble wooden entrance of Haron Hollow and Thranduil doubted his trembling legs would take him all the way there under the expectant and pitying gaze of his people.

 

Somehow though he managed to walk. Concentrating only on placing one foot in front of the other he kept his gaze down so that no one would approach and try to offer him comfort or condolences. His companions were focused on maintaining his safety more than his mental and physical state but he could sense the soothing presence of Galdor behind him and the warmth and care he projected to him. Somehow it was not enough no matter how genuine it was. Thranduil needed someone more powerful, and wiser than himself, to comfort him and tell him everything will be alright and this pain, this flame that was burning in his chest would eventually die down because he did not know how much longer he could go on like this. The King could not believe after so many centuries how desperately he was in need of a caring parent.

 

The entrance to the graveyard was banned for everyone except the small group accompanying the King. It was thoughtful of Galdor to do so and Thranduil was thankful. The Steward had probably predicted that Thranduil would not be able to keep his composure during the burial and sometime in the process he would eventually breakdown. He didn’t want the king break under the prying eyes of his subjects who deemed him unbreakable.

 

But he didn’t break. He didn’t even cry. In a corner in the graveyard a piece of earth had been dug out and Thranduil felt sick when he reached the spot and saw how small the hole was, yet too deep.

The gravediggers were standing above the hole they had made and offered whispered condolences which the King did not even hear. They looked like vultures waiting for a dead rotten meat and he wanted to shoo them away. But Thranduil knew they needed to stay since he would never be able to pile soil on his daughter and he couldn’t expect any of the lords to do it for him. He just stood there like a nightingale whose eggs had been snatched from him, staring at the open mouth of the grave. He didn’t realize how long he had stood there until he felt Galdor’s hand on his shoulder, indicating that it was time for him to say goodbye to his precious.

 

His body trembled from grief and fever alike. So numb he was that he couldn’t really feel the effects of the poison still running in his body but the tremors and cold sweat on his brow were enough for others to witness and know. Holgailion approached him, stretching his arms to take the baby from him. Despite their arguments in the council the lord had watched Thranduil grow from a small elfling. He had seen and watched over his every step. Seeing the elf he cherished so much in such a pain twisted his stomach and if he could he wanted to lessen the burden for him if only a little. Thranduil didn’t have to go through these traditions. It was cruel. But once Holgailion’s hand touched the blanket wrapped around the dead babe Thranduil snatched her away as if waken from a trance.

“I’ll do it!” he said in protest to Holgailion’s pleading look.

 

He approached the grave with heavy steps before turning and handing Negaar to Galdor. Then he bent his knee and dropped into the whole. He then turned and stretched his arms. Galdor handed the baby back. For the last time the King felt the slight heaviness of his child in his arms. He buried his face in the blanket to find a familiar scent of flower powders but found none; no his daughter was long gone. He kneeled down and placed her on the ground making sure her face was covered with the covers. Breathing was becoming hard and Thranduil found his knees too weak to take him out of that pit. In fact he was feeling faint.

 

“Thranduil get out of there…!” Galdor’s commanding tone snapped his eyes open and he only just realized he had closed them to stop his head from spinning. He had not realized how long he had remained there, kneeling in the depths of a grave dug for his daughter. Soon Galdor was inside the hole as well and his arm circled around Thranduil’s narrow waist and forced him up. The King stumbled and had to lean heavily on Galdor as his head spun from being forced to stand so fast.

 

Holgailion’s hand soon found his from outside the grave and with Galdor pushing him up the lord pulled him outside and caught him when he almost dropped facedown from dizziness. Galdor was also helped outside by Daitrid.

 

Soon the gravediggers started their work. Thranduil’s eyes widened with panic and the veins popping out on his forehead showed the pressure and the pain. Yet still he couldn’t cry no matter how much he was exploding. He was like a cloudy sky on a humid hot day ready to flood the lands with rain but being unable to do so.

 

Uncontrollably he tried to attack the gravediggers and scare them away from his child but Holgailion’s hold on his waist was firm and unbreakable for someone as weak as him. Whimpers of frustration and pain was all that found its way out of his mouth as he watched them shovel the soil on his precious daughter. Holding the King Holgailion could sense Thranduil’s pain as he twisted in his grip like a thornbird impaling herself on bloodied thorns. Soon it was done and over with. The child was gone but the pain remained.

 

***

 

Thranduil’s knees hurt and trembled from the long time he had just stood there. Where a while ago a deep hole was now a small mountain of soil. Where a while ago was his daughter dark dirt stared at him with arrogance reminding him of how weak and helpless he was; of how he had failed. He knew that the earth would go down in a few day, and what a horrible sight would that be then.

 

The weather was warm as it was summer but Thranduil shivered from cold. He was still sick and not fully recovered from the effect of the poison. Galdor had begged him many times to go back to the palace but he couldn’t. If he went back he would have to believe his daughter was dead. He would have to face her empty cradle and her bereaved mother. How could he, who could not help himself with his own grief, aid his wife? How could he pull her out of the wrathful ocean that was drowning himself as well?

 

He saw Erhan walk in the distance at the edge of the graveyard seemingly checking on his safety. Why he did so however was a mystery to him. What did it matter if anyone tried to hurt him? They could not hurt him more or make him feel more pain. He didn’t care if someone attacked and killed him. In fact he might have been relieved from this agony that seemed infinite. But Thranduil figured out that it mattered to the others if he leaved or died. They wanted a king after all; they _needed_ a king. That was why they needed him alive and it did not matter if he was a hollow shell of what he once was. They didn’t care that his child had died. She was a girl after all; unable to replace him. She was unimportant to them. The King placed his hand on his chest and squeezed his tunic there as a breathtaking pain flashed inside his heart. He wanted so much to weep but he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe.

 

A hand landed on his shoulder gently; firm yet soothing; paternal. He had told Galdor not to disturb him while he insisted on staying in the graveyard with Thranduil after everyone had left. He turned to see who was it that had dared to do so and much to his surprise he saw Alheru standing in front of him.

 

The lord still had his traveling clothes on and it seemed that he had rushed to the graveyard immediately after arriving at the capital. His hand was firm on Thranduil’s shoulder and conveying many massages. Despite his grief relief washed over Thranduil. In the entire world Alheru had been the most similar to his father. Though the King appreciated how the others had kept him company during sorrow he still felt lonely. Alheru’s presence was what he needed; an older parent who would tell him that all will be well, who would assure him that the sun would eventually rise after the dark night, who would lie to him just like parents do.

 

The lump in his throat finally shattered and he broke into unstoppable tears that ran freely down his too dried cheeks which were now hollow under his cheekbones. Now that he had started Thranduil could cry and wail for days…for years. Alheru frowned seemingly trying to scare away his own tears but his eyes gave away how sorrowful he was for losing his grand child and for watching the grief of his daughter and the his friend’s son whom he had watched grow. He pulled Thranduil to his fatherly embrace and held on to him tight as the Sindar sobbed on the crook of his shoulder.

 

“Weep son…” he whispered as he ran one hand on Thranduil’s hair caressing the silken strands and the other on his violently shaking shoulders.

 

Thranduil’s knees gave in to his weakness due to the still lingering sickness and the unbearable pressure of the last few days. Alheru readily held his leaning weigh and slowly kneeled down so that both of them were sitting on the ground at the foot of the newly filled grave. Thranduil clung to Alheru’s tunic like a frightened elfling and buried his face in the lord’s robe as if he could hide from the world. He cried until there was no tear left for him, until his chest hurt from the pressure of the sobs. Alheru held him through all that, seemingly for hours until his shoulders shook no more and no choked whimper left his throat anymore. The Lord then gave Galdor a pointed look to help him get the king off his chest and back to the palace as Thranduil had finally passed out from exhaustion.

 

***

 

The small explosion in the burning pile made the King jump and another wave of sadness washed over him if that was even possible. It had taken the servants almost a full day to take all his belongings out; anything he had ever owned. Galdor and Elrond had supervised them with much care. After his bedchamber, bathing chamber and study were completely vacant the Peredhel had the servants mop the floor and the walls with one of his strange substances which at this rate Thranduil did not care to know what it was.

 

If he was feeling better he would have congratulated Galion on forcing the tailors to sew a few new sets of clothing for him in such a short time. But the King was too busy lamenting over the garments that were being thrown one after the other into the flaming fire. He had worn some of them on special occasions that held long gone happy memories, some were his father’s that he still found his lingering scent on them which he knew did not exist and was a trick his mind played with him and some were sewn by his mother and he used to take solace in knowing that her kind slender fingers had once touched them with love.

 

Everything else that was now burning had horrible weigh of memories as well. Through the flames he could see his desk that was once his father’s; brought to him from faraway lands in special order. Even his ink case and quill had not been spared from the fire. His grip on the wooden horse he was holding in his gloved hands tightened as Galdor approached to take that from him as well. The Steward had droplets of sweat on his forehead as the fire was building too wild. He stretched his arm towards the King to take the toy; the only reminder that his father once loved him. Seeing Thranduil’s uncertainty he gave the King a pleading look as if begging him to allow this nasty business to end soon. But even as close as Galdor was to Thranduil he would never know what these things he was burning for his safety meant to him. The Steward walked closer and gently unclutched the Sindar’s fingers from around the middle of the wooden horse. He was forced to let go with a silent whimper and as Galdor walked back and threw the toy into the fire the lump in Thranduil’s throat grew even more; threatening to suffocate him.

 

The last thing they brought to burn was worst of all. With Miklovand’s help Galdor carried the huge cradle that belonged to Negaar. They would not even spared that. In their view anything was a potential threat and had to be destroyed. But the cradle was too hurtful. Negaar’s clothes had already been burned and Thranduil had been forced to watch those tiny garments disappear in the flames. The cradle was the last thing remaining from her. If this was destroyed as well she would only survive in their memories and there was no memory that would not turn to nothing in time. But Thranduil knew this was necessary. A few days ago he might have argued against it or even tried to save the memoir of his daughter by force or quarrel. But he was calmer now; perhaps numb a bit and he knew this had to be done. A cradle had no value without the child dozing inside it.

 

Just as Galdor and Miklovand reached a distance where they could throw it in the fire screams and heated cries made them stop and the three ellons turned to see the Queen approaching them with long determined strides, Aleth and Alheru at her heel begging her to go back.

 

“What are you doing?!” Leuthil assaulted the King when she reached them and for long moments Thranduil merely looked at her.

 

She had lost so much weigh in a few days and the black dress she was wearing made her look even thinner. Her face was skin on bone and her eyes were surrounded by dark circles. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a loose messy braid making her look more like worn out women of men villages. The life and beauty of her blue eyes were no longer there; only sorrow and immeasurable anger. She looked like a wild injured wolf when she addressed the King. “Not the cradle Thranduil…” she hissed when Thranduil did not answer her.

 

“We must…” Thranduil mumbled which seemed to infuriate Leuthil further.

 

“It’s all that’s left from my child!” she screamed making them all wince from the pain attached to her tone.

 

Thranduil was broken, grieved and exhausted and Leuthil’s attitude was not helping. He turned completely towards her and locked his eyes with hers. “Our child is dead…” he said firmly. “A cradle will not bring her back.” He wished he could believe himself. “It might be poisoned…it has to be destroyed.”

 

“Do you think me dumb or deaf!?” Leuthil cried which took Thranduil aback. “I know _why_ she died…” the Queen screamed. “She didn’t die because of poisoned clothes or cradle…she died because _you_ touched her!” 

 

The words were like an arrow piercing Thranduil’s heart. Had he not repeated the same words to himself? Had he not twisted his stomach with the same guilt Leuthil was reminding him of? But somehow hearing the accusation pour out of her mouth so easily made him sick. The others were silent as well not knowing what to do.

 

“Leuthil…I…” he stammered before he was interrupted.

 

“You cannot deny it can you?” she said with an unmerciful smirk. “She died because you were too careless with your venomous hands…”

 

“You speak as if I could control any of this…You speak as if I knew.” Thranduil yelled back, losing his temper. Alheru took an alarmed step forward as the two bereaved parents seemed about to strangle each other in their hysteria.

 

“You should have said something about your sickness, maybe then we could have stopped everything faster…” she screamed hitting Thranduil on his chest hatefully. “Instead you hid it. So blind in your pride you are!”

 

Thranduil opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. What could he say against such wild hatred? He couldn’t believe she was blaming him for Negaar’s death. Could she not see how broken he was? Did she truly believe what she said? The King took the blows to his chest without complaint as his ears no longer registered what Leuthil was still screaming. Alheru and Galdor finally pulled the Queen back and away to get her inside.

 

Aleth paced a few feet behind them but turned one last time to face her brother. She looked firm despite the sorrow in her eyes. “Burn the cradle…” she said. “And don’t blame yourself…”

 

***

 

There was a small inn in Southernwood. In the days long gone it used to be just an establishment for people to stay for a few nights. Nowadays due to the King’s wrath no traveler passed the village. So the inn was turned to a brothel and of course a gathering place for the village leader and his rebel companions.

 

After the effects of the King’s banishment had hit, many of the villagers had complained and even rebelled against Siavash. Yet the leader had managed to subdue them with the help of the meetings held in this very brothel.

 

An elleth lived there, but she was not a courtesan. Her wild raven hair and green eyes gave her an air of authority and there was a sick look in her eyes that no ellon dared approach her. She was the one Siavash held his meeting with. It was her advices and often cruel suggestions that had aided the village leader keep his unsatisfied people under command.

 

That night she was talking to Siavash again. Some of the villagers had come to him demanding that he asked to be pardoned by the King so that they could get back to their former easier life. Siavash was conflicted and had ran to her for advice. However it was not hard to sway the leader to her course. She was just telling him how to send the foolish woodsmen away that one of the brothel girls gave her a meaningful look. Instead of listening to Sivash’s constant babbling she followed the girl with her gaze as she walked away and past a hooded ellon.

 

Morey had seen him enough to know who it was even though the hood of the cloak was hiding his face. Knowing that she had caught his sight the ellon turned and walked out of the inn. She turned to Siavash. He was still talking about something that the elleth had lost the track of. With a hand on his lap she excused herself. Something about going outside for some fresh air. It didn’t really matter. No one really questioned her actions here; so desperate for her aid they were. She wrapped herself in a robe and pulled up the hood before walking outside.

 

The night was warm with a mild breeze going through the trees and disturbing the silence outside the inn. She saw the ellon standing among the trees and walked the distance towards him. Hearing her approach Miklovand turned and regarded her with dark cold eyes.

 

“Must be urgent that you came all the way here…” Morey said without greeting.

 

Miklovand merely looked at her for a while. She couldn’t read anything from his expression. But Morey was a patient elleth. Though the Captain’s silence stretched long but he finally talked.

“We buried someone two days ago…” he said.

 

Morey’s heart started pounding fast. “Thranduil?!” she asked failing in the attempt to suppress her excitement.

But Miklovand shook his head.

 

“That Noldor healer saved him…” he explained.

 

“Then who?” the elleth frowned.

 

Miklovand’s eyes were suddenly aflame with anger. “His daughter…” he gritted his teeth.

 

A whispered curse escaped Morey’s lips and she ran her hands on her face sighing. Her plans were ruined. That poison had cost so much. “How on earth did you managed to kill the girl but not Thranduil!?”She growled. “Perhaps you placed the poison on the wrong things!!!”

 

“I applied it on his quill…!” Miklovand hissed. “You were the one who failed to mention the poison could be transferred by touch.”

 

“Alright…alright!” Morey huffed waving her hand in the air dismissively. “I’ll think of something else. Go now…I’ll let you know when I come up with something.”

 

“There’s no need…” Miklovand said emotionlessly making Morey look up at him with raised eyebrows. “We work together no more…”

 

“What does that supposed to mean?!” the elleth asked.

 

“It means that from now on I work alone!” the Captain clarified showing his teeth like an angry tiger.

 

“Why?” Morey said.

 

“I’d told you I did not want the child to be hurt…” Miklovand explained.

 

“You were not so reluctant to kill her when she was in her mother’s womb!” Morey reminded.

 

“She was not born then…and I feared the baby to be a boy.” Miklovand snapped. “But she turned out to be a girl. She was no threat to us. I did not want her hurt…but now she’s dead and Thranduil’s still alive. We achieved nothing and we killed an innocent child in the process.”

 

“Thranduil will fade from this grief.” Morey said certainly.

 

“He won’t!” the Captain yelled grabbing Morey’s arm aggressively and yanking her towards him. “His life has a huge purpose now…to kill the culprit; to find revenge.”

 

“We’ll kill him before that!” she nearly screamed shoving Miklovand away. “We’ll find a way!”

 

“There is no ‘ _we’_ Morey!” the Captain shouted. “I work alone from now on…”

 

Morey’s green eyes regarded him with anger for a long while. “Getting your throne back and keeping it are to different matters Miklovand.” She reminded. “You might be able to overthrow Thranduil and sit on the throne alone. But you won’t be able to keep it without my support while I have all the connections and power you need.”

 

“For now there is no throne and no overthrown king…” Miklovand said sharply. “Just a dead innocent baby.”

 

“You cannot rule with such a sentimental heart Miklovand…” she reminded.

 

“Goodbye Morey…” the Captain hissed and turned to live but the elleth’s voice made him stop.

 

“If you betray me…” she said voice shaking a bit. “If you tell a word to Thranduil…I swear I will take you down with me!”

 

“No one will know anything about you as long as they don’t know about me…” Miklovand said, half turned towards the elleth. He bowed his head sarcastically before walking away.

Morey stood there for a long time…thinking of what she should do now that she had lost her major connection to the palace.

 

***

 

His shaking fingers couldn’t curl around the cork of the wine bottle. Or if he wanted to be more precise his vision was too blurry and his mind too clouded to give the right orders to his fingers. Perhaps he was drunk, he had lost count of the bottles he had drained after all. If the carpet of bottles on the floor was any indication he was _really_ drunk. But at least it helped a little. His heart still burned from sorrow but at least he could not think with his fuzzy mind and the thirst for revenge or ending everything would die down if only for a few hours or perhaps he could just fall sleep and run away from the reality that haunted him. Yes he needed to sink in reverie; where no thought could reach him; the realm silence.

 

The knock on the door came just as he managed to make the cork pop open and the scent of strong spicy wine scattered in the room; not that the chamber was already filled with the odor. The door cracked open without his permission, not that anyone cared about his permission these days. They treated him more like an injured beast, pulling him around like a broken poppet. They made him presentable for the eye of public and then after the obligations were done they left him to his own devises like a doll in its old chest to fend for himself and sink lower and deeper in his self-destruction. But Thranduil knew they didn’t do this out of cruelty or ignorance. His kinsmen were merely unable to do anything and helpless in aiding him. This swamp of sorrow that was eating him was too vast and too deep for any of them to stretch their arms and pull him out.

 

What Thranduil also knew was that they were mostly busy with the Queen who at this moment had chased the King away from their shared bed chamber with her heavy silence and hateful attitude. Many times he had tried to reach out to her but she had shown him temper worse than the silence. So for a week now he had retreated to his study; he even slept there at night when he finally passed out from exhaustion. Alone in that room where he was supposed to work he twisted and turned in his grief. Galdor came to him regularly forcing him to eat sometimes with no small amount of argument and yelling on the Stewards part and then he often forced him to do some work and take care of the amount of papers on his desk which were becoming a tall mountain. Sometimes Aleth came to him and gave him reports on how Leuthil was faring as if she knew that he craved to be informed of how his beloved was. And sometimes just like now Alheru came and asked after him.

 

The lord stood there in the middle of the chamber kicking the bottles away with his booted feet as he scanned the room skeptically. His dark eyes so unlike his daughter’s found Thranduil; his hollow cheeks and shaking hands that were trying to lift the bottle to his lips. The stream of unending tears that only ran over his face in his solitude and drunkenness broke the Lord’s heart but Alheru was an officer and thus he showed no compassion when he pulled the bottle out of Thranduil’s hands rather forcefully. The King’s hold on the vintage was so weak and he let go so easily that for a moment the lord felt guilty for acting so aggressive. 

 

“Are you trying to drink yourself to death?!” he scolded harshly.

 

“I wish I could…” Thranduil whispered pathetically as he eyed the bottle longingly.

 

Alheru ignored the craving gazes and placed the vintage on a faraway side table. Then he sat on the couch facing the King. He regarded Thranduil for a while measuring if the Sindar could take what he intended to say. The King was broken in all aspects of the word; eyes hollow and tears streaming uncontrollably. But Alheru knew Thranduil was strong. He had faced many trials and survived. He was Oropher’s son; a survivor. As much as the lord loved the Sindar as his own son, he had a daughter whose situation was dire and needed immediate attention.

 

“Thranduil…” he called watching as those aquamarine orbs lifted to look at him through wet dark lashes. “I wanted to ask something of you…”

 

When he paused Thranduil nodded for him to continue his eyes shifting right and left rapidly in distress. The lord could at least be sure his mind was not fuggy enough to make him incomprehensible but enough to soften the King.

 

“I wish to take Leuthil away for a while!” he said fast as if it would reduce the weight of the message it conveyed.

 

At this Thranduil jumped up and shook his head rapidly. “No…” he said; almost begged. “No please…”

 

“Thranduil listen to me…” Alheru ordered firmly as he rose and sat on his knees in front of the King who was indeed panicking. “I’ll take her to Lothlorien…just for a few months…it will help her heal…”

 

“No…I can’t” the King sobbed still shaking his head. “If I lose her, I will die…”

 

“If she stays here she _will_ die!” Alheru said firmly shaking Thranduil with a hard grip on his shoulders.

 

Thranduil still shook his head but fell silent. The lord’s stomach twisted and he hated himself for doing this. But Thranduil could survive a few months without his wife and he needed to think of his daughter.

He cupped the Sindar’s fair face in his large hands. Thranduil’s eyes found his again; wet and swollen from salty tears.

“I promise…” Alheru said slowly. “I will bring her back to you.”

 

The King cried for a while in silence. But he was too weak to argue against his father in law. Perhaps he was right and being away might save Leuthil. Thranduil closed his eyes and nodded his submission. He did not see the lord’s relieved smile as he buried his face in his hands and his back stooped forward from pressure. He sobbed with no restraint and for a while Alheru just sat there rubbing his back in soothing circles. The amount of consumed vine and the toll of crying all night finally exhausted the King and Alheru slowly urged him to lie down on the couch. The lord then took to removing Thranduil’s boots and placed his long legs on the settee as well. By the time he finished his task Thranduil’s eyes had already closed and he was calling his father in his dreams.

 

***

 

With a light knock Aleth opened the wooden door and entered the royal chambers. The morning light had illuminated the room giving a warm color to the wooden furniture. Her eyes found the open chests in a corner and for a time the Princess watched Liadan pick clothes and other articles from the wardrobe and drawers and placed them in the chests. The maid was seemingly packing for a long journey.

 

Once the maid saw her she curtsied and Aleth dismissed it with a nod as she crossed the room and approached Leuthil who was sitting on the edge of the niche where the tall window was. Her black dress with long tight sleeves and the bun she had gathered her hair in made her look like a thin angel from the realm of Mandos. She turned to look at the Princess as she sat on the edge beside her. The Queen would’ve smiled to her friend but it seemed she had forgotten how to do so.

 

“I see you’ve made your decision…” Aleth remarked pointing at the chests with her head.

 

“A time away will be good for me…” Leuthil said monotonously as she turned to gaze out of the window again, the morning light making her blue eyes look paler.

 

“Do you really believe in that or is it just a sentence they’ve taught you to repeat…” Aleth said rather harshly.

 

At that the Queen turned to look at him sharply in the eye. “I need to be away from here so that I can heal…” she said.

 

“You will not heal in Lorien…” the Princess said leaning forward a bit. “You’re just escaping…”

 

“What do you know…?” Leuthil snapped. “You don’t understand!”

 

“In fact I believe I am the only one here who understands Leuthil!” Aleth said firmly.

 

Something in the Queen’s eyes changed and she regarded her friend more softly when she was reminded of their mutual pain. “I’m sorry Aleth…” she whispered lowering her gaze guiltily.

 

The Princess reached out and took Leuthil’s hand. “All I’m trying to say is that you and Thranduil need each other right now…” she sighed. “Neither of you can walk through this fire unharmed without the other.”

 

The Queen looked up at her and for a moment Aleth thought she had managed to change her mind. But then the Silvan shook her head. “I appreciate your advice Aleth…” she said. “But my decision is final…I will leave tomorrow.”

 

Knowing that her words were falling on deaf ears the Princess nodded and rose. She straightened her garment and started walking towards the door but before leaving she turned around. Leuthil looked up at her curious to know what else she had to say.

 

“Just remember Leuthil, time will not wait for you to heal…” Aleth said gravely. “…and when you return things will not be the same.”

 

The Princess did not wait for an answer. She turned and walked out of the door, chin raised and back straight looking so much like the late Queen Harma whose strength Leuthil always envied.

 

 

 

Years of living and hunting orcs in the wild had made the Balrog-slayer skillful in the art of hiding. So when he watched the Princess leave the royal chambers he was hidden deep in the dark corners of the underground citadel and the King’s sister did not even sense his presence as she walked down the opposite corridor and disappeared around the corner.

 

When he was certain that the corridors were empty Glorfindel walked to the chamber entrance and knocked. He opened the door and walked inside, when he heard the permission to enter.

 

The first thing that came to his eyes was the maid closing the chests. And then his eyes found the Queen’s. His heart twisted and it seemed that they were washing clothes in his belly. It was very strange that after all his centuries of exciting life the sight of her made him so anxious. And only Valar knew how he wanted to take out his sword and fight her sorrows away. If he only could…

 

“My lady…” he bowed his head.

 

“Please sit down…” the Queen invited softly indicating coach.

 

The lord obeyed and sat. He felt rather out of place in this chamber; where Leuthil shared a life with the Elvenking. They had probably experienced many passionate nights here. The thought made him sick so instead he focused on the Queen’s blue eyes that were regarding him expectantly demanding that he explained the reason for his visit.

 

“King Thranduil has asked me to escort you and your lord father to the Golden Wood with my best men and stay in Lorien to protect you as long as you are there…” Glorfindel went straight to the point understanding that the Silvan had no nerve to beat around the bush.

 

“Oh!” was all the Queen said raising her eyebrows.

 

“I know it’s an order but if this is not what you wish for then I will defy the king…” the Lord said sincerely. “I will only accompany you if you want me to be there with you…”

 

“Why is my opinion so important to you!?” Leuthil asked.

 

“Because I think you are a free elleth…” Glorfindel shrugged. “You have the right to choose.”

 

For a while the Queen just gazed at him with expressionless eyes and the Balrog-slayer feared that he had crossed his limits. But he was always one for a sharp tongue and he said what he thought. The lord of the Golden Flower even congratulated himself for not blurting out that he thought the ellons living in Mirkwood specially the Elvenking were prejudiced patriarchs and that he had no right to order her around. Fortunately the sorrowful and slight smile forming on Leuthil’s lips pulled him out of his thoughts.

 

“Go pack your things my lord…” she said softly. “We’ll leave tomorrow…”

 

***

 

It was deep into the night that Glorfindel finally found the time to start packing. The entire morning had gone to tell the Imladrian troops and the captains what to do in his absence. Fortunately being used to travelling he had little to pack. But as he thought that he would probably be staying with the Queen for a while in Lorien at least he needed a few sets of clothing.

 

The Balrog-slayer couldn’t suppress the tingle of excitement inside his heart. Though he felt guilty that he was thinking of his own desires while the King and Queen were so messed up in their grief he couldn’t help but feel happy for having some time with her. He also felt no small amount of pride in the fact that she chose him as her escort. The Lord of the Golden Flower found himself calling the Woodland Queen by her name in his mind and felt a closeness he had not felt before. In his heart he knew their relationship would grow even more in time and he grinned to himself sheepishly.

 

“That grin looks really stupid you know!”

 

Elrond’s voice startled him. He hadn’t even heard the Imladrian lord enter his chambers. Glorfindel gathered himself and smiled at Elrond who walked forward and stood in front of him, eyeing his small sac.

 

“I see you made your decision…” the Peredhel noted.

 

“King Thranduil’s order…” Glorfindel said. “You were the one who insisted on obeying his every single word.”

 

“Don’t tell me that you are not enjoying this!” Elrond waved his hand. “I know you well enough to see how you look at Lady Leuthil…”

 

Glorfindel blushed and he knew his ears were also crimson. He opened his mouth a few times to deny but each time he closed it like a fish out of the water. Seeing that his assumption was true the Peredhel shook his head.

 

“You understand that this is wrong…” he pointed out.

 

“I’ve done nothing…” Glorfindel interrupted.

 

“I know…” Elrond nodded. “But I don’t know how much longer you can resist!”

 

To that Glorfindel said nothing but merely looked away. Elrond continued.

“She is the Elvenking’s wife and she loves him even if she’s forgotten it for now.” The Peredhel said slowly. “Do not wreck the relationship I have established so difficultly with Thranduil over something that cannot be…and is awfully wrong.”

 

Glorfindel merely nodded at that. What could he say to Elrond when he was right? Elrond tapped him on the shoulder as he continued. “Now that you’re going, take my sons to Lorien with you and then send them back to Imladris.” He said. “Thranduil has taught them some behavior is would seem. I would like to put that to test…besides dangerous times are lurking around and I want them to be away.”

 

“As you wish…” Glorfindel smiled and nodded.

 

The Peredhel walked to the door but turned to face the Balrog-slayer once more. “Oh and…Erestor asked me to tell you that he misses you…”

 

At that Glorfindel’s eyebrows shot up and he regarded Elrond puzzled and taken aback. The Peredhel chuckled at his perplexed expression.

 

“You have a great tendency towards what you cannot have…” Elrond said. “You look faraway for love when you can stretch you hand and grab it just a foot away…”

 

With that the Lord of Rivendell left the chamber and closed the door. Glorfindel cursed him and his words that always contained riddles he could not solve. He was a warrior after all not a wise scholar.

 

***

 

 

The design of the carriages had not changed in the past centuries and Thranduil thought of it as retrogress. Perhaps only the settees inside had become more comfortable, but the main frame and even the designs of the carvings of on its wooden walls were the same. After Doriath had burned to ash and they had lost the only home Thranduil had ever known, his father had arrived in the camp of the homeless lords with a carriage just like this one. Thranduil and his mother had travelled all the way to Greenwood in one of these. The King still remembered the rapid jerks of the carriage that as a young child had made him sick. He remembered the small caravan were forced to stop many times for him to puke. But Oropher had refused to allow his son to ride with him, telling them that it was dangerous and someone might just want to murder his heir.

 

Though Thranduil hated these things the elleths were quite comfortable in them as they were ought to use carriage regularly to get from place to place. So it was not this that had the king’s heart twisting and turning nor was it the fact that Leuthil was supposed to travel a long way to reach Lorien. He was confident that the escort he was sending were enough for her protection. What fueled the fire of anxiety in his heart was the fact that they were taking her away from him and there was no guarantee if she would ever return or if she would ever want to see him again. So his heart sank and he almost felt sick from apprehension when he saw Leuthil walk out of the gates and towards the carriage where he stood, her maid accompanying her.

 

As she walked down the stone stairs her long black garment swept the floor and the warm summer breeze lifted her black tulle in the air making her like an angel with dark wings. When they reached the bottom of the stairs Liadan went on the carriage to arrange thee food supplies for the road. Alheru who had stood beside them in silence turned to the King to say goodbye but Thranduil spoke first.

 

“Don’t forget your promise to me…” he said with a betrayed look on his face.

 

“I won’t…” the lord nodded. He then patted the King’s shoulder before bowing his head in the Sindar’s respect and then walking away to mount his stallion. Thranduil watched behind Galdor where Aleth and Leuthil were talking. He didn’t know what they were talking about but the conversation seemed grave and serious and if Aleth’s scowl was any indication their discussion had not been to her liking. Thranduil did not get to think about it further as Leuthil walked to stand in front of him seemingly to say goodbye. But the elleth was bitterly silent and did not give her husband a glance. Thranduil felt sick at the thought that perhaps if it wasn’t for formalities and respect she would’ve left without saying goodbye.

 

“Leuthil…” he whispered fingers twitching to hold his wife but not daring to do so. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

 

When Leuthil’s silence stretched the King dared to allow a tingle of hope grow inside his chest. Perhaps she would change her mind in the last minute like most of the love stories mothers told their children. After what seemed like ages the Queen finally looked up at him. The dull eyes that only radiated sorrow and anger towards him cut deep into his soul and Thranduil’s heart seized beating from grief when Leuthil finally spoke.

 

“I want to go…” she told him. Then she lowered herself in a deep courteous curtsey before turning away from him and stepping into the carriage.

 

Thranduil’s breath came in shallow gasps and his chest hurt like it was stabbed with a dagger. Before he could stop himself he grabbed Leuthil’s arm in midway and the Queen turned her head towards him. He didn’t care if he had to beg in front of all the people standing around them.

 

“I’ll wait for your return…” he said hating the way his voice shook. “Please…come back to me.”

 

Leuthil said nothing but just gazed at him with the same expressionless eyes. Like he was a stranger. Like she had not known him for centuries. Like they had never loved each other. Her gaze was so heavy that the King’s hold on her arm weakened until he finally let go completely. She sat inside the carriage in silence and Liadan closed the door. Glorfindel bowed his head for the King asking for permission to leave but Thranduil did not see him. His eyes were fixed on the closed door of the carriage. So instead Galdor nodded at the Balrog-slayer. Alheru kicked his horse first and the others in the escort urged their mounts forward after him. The carriage was also lead away stumbling on the stony pathway. After a few feet they sped up. The riders and the horses pulling the carriage started trotting and the reality that his beloved had indeed left him in his sorrow sank in for the King.

 

Without really knowing what he was doing Thranduil ran after the carriage that was getting further and further. He wanted to stop them; to open the door of the damn thing and take his wife in his arm; tell her all will be well and that they can survive this together. But the group were fast and his weak body did not help either. He started sobbing but never stopped running as he ignored Galdor shouting his name and possibly running after him. The wind that hit his face dried his tears. At last his foot hit some wayward rock and he fell to the ground on his knees and hands.

 

Ignoring the pain that flashed up his thighs and the mud that strained his hands the King just looked up to see the carriage slowly disappearing in the woods. His vision was blurry from the curtain of tears on his eyes but he tried to get up to run again. Before he could lift himself back on his feet Galdor’s arms circled around his waist and pulled him down. He struggled in the Stewards hold but Galdor was stronger and deep inside he knew he couldn’t reach Leuthil anymore. So he just screamed and cursed and clawed on Galdor’s tunic until there was no strength left in him.

 

***

 

Before this Thranduil never minded the people who stared at him. Being one of the tallest and fairest in face even among the elves he was used to people staring at him and then when he became King this was a usual aspect of his life. When he walked into a place all conversations were stopped and all heads turned towards him. Though the people always bowed or curtsied their looks always bore judgment. They judged his demeanor, judged his movements and judged his attires. He was used to it and had learned not to pay attention. But never like that time had he felt the weight of the gazes upon him.

 

As he stepped into the meeting hall after two weeks of losing his child, all heads turned to him. His advisors were occupying the long table. Elrond was also there and he was perhaps the only one who smiled at him as he entered with Galdor beside him. The rest looked at him as if he would break any second and they would be forced to gather the pieces.

 

Erhan pulled his chair back and he sat. The chair seemed strangely uncomfortable. Even the crown and his clothes were itchy. But they had to do this or it would be late. He had lost his child and his wife had left him. But Thranduil had another baby he had to look after and it was _his realm_ which was now under the danger of dragons and unknown creatures coming out of myths.

 

 

 


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank those who have kept reading this fic and specially those who have taken the time to comment, some of whom have reviewed on every single chapter to let me know they are still following, you are all I live for.

 The battle would be won. Everything was at hand. They had outnumbered the enemy. The orcs swarming out of their fearsome kingdom were unorganized and reeling. Their armor was not thick nor safe and there seemed to be no talent in the art of war in them. They were only hideous creatures with no great inside; easy to slaughter and valueless. The Marchwarden of Lorien was supposed to arrive with his elves of Lorien but there was no sign of him yet. The battle had started too early thus they could not have waited for Haldir, but it did not concern the Elvenking. His and Elrond’s armies were enough and more than ready. Their sigils stood tall. Yes the battle would be won with no great effort.

 

These were Thranduil’s thoughts before everything changed, before the sun turned cold yet the weather was burningly hot. Then the dusty day turned to night as giant leather wings veiled the sun. The grass dried in the plains, the fish withered in the seas, and the earth no longer endured the dead resting in her heart. The roads to salvation ended up in perdition and only those fighting on that field knew how fatally warm the cold lands of the north were. No one thought of honor anymore, none thought of love from that moment on. Not a single elf had victory in mind anymore…only survival was on their minds as the creature of hell was set loose.

 

The smell of burnt flesh filled the field as the first burning breath of the monster lit the plain. Blood flooded the land. Screams of his soldiers pierced his ears; sons of his land. Heads were torn off, hands were cut and the King saw elves with only their torso’s left crawling on the soil. His still able men only kept their lines with sheer force of will and belief in what they were doing. An army of mortal men had scattered already if it were standing in their place.

 

The orcs were still not outdone and Thranduil saw Miklovand’s legion struggling with a group. He galloped towards his step-brother and dived towards him tackling him to the ground from his stallion. Miklovand yelped and they both hit the earth just as a track of shooting fire passed above them and burned Miklovand’s horse to nothing; Thranduil’s own mare ran away in panic and disappeared in the chaos. The Captain was breathless and his dark eyes found Thranduil’s. Both knew what the other was thinking. There was no need for them to say anything. This foe was beyond them.

 

“Gather your men and retreat…” Thranduil ordered before getting back to his feet.

 

He ran through the battlefield now on foot. His boots were too warm and the smell of blood stung his senses. The King killed as he went through shouting orders to his captains to retreat. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake as his father. He would not take his men to certain death. Along the plain he saw Elrond doing the same. The silver banner of Imladris was on fire and Thranduil could see their army retreating like round drops of mercury. 

 

He looked around to see his men going back but still fighting and felt a tingle of relief as he slaughtered as much as he could. In the chaos the King searched for familiar faces but found none. A strong hand grabbed the hood of his cloak and brought him down to the ground with great force. Erhan covered him with his body as another shoot of fire passed above them. Their widened eyes met but Thranduil did not get the chance to thank his sentry before the guard got up with excitement and pointed at the horizon.

 

“My lord look…”

 

And Thranduil did. The elves of Lorien had arrived; fellow Silvans. They were shooting the giant lizard with arrows that was actually piercing the rock thick skin of the monster unlike theirs. _Magic was the only solution to magic_ as Elrond had noted not a few weeks ago. The King rose to his feet with newly found strength. The beast was puzzled and hurt and it seemed more mortal now. The Wood-elves around were gazing at him expectantly. He ordered them in a line. They obeyed with an incredible speed and order. Thranduil felt proud of his army and his realm. Once more they attacked the orcs to make the battle easier for the soldiers of Lorien who were fighting the dragon.

 

A great wind almost tackled them to the ground as the dragon flew to the air to escape the black arrows that were piercing him unmercifully. Thranduil remembered a smile finding its way to his lips as he could see the nearing end of the monster just before he noticed the fire burning inside the beast; the tongues of flame that could be seen through the wholes made on its skin with the black arrows. As if the beast was a bomb, ready to explode by the slightest poke. He opened his mouth to yell something but was too. Another arrow was shot and the King could even follow it as it cut the air and landed on the creature’s heart. A hellish scream pierced its way out of the dragon’s throat and rattled the plain. The beast twisted in the air and in one single moment it turned to a giant bundle of fire dropping with increasing speed towards the earth.

 

The soldiers scattered rapidly. Thranduil appreciated their intelligence and fast reactions. If they were an army of men they would have ended up smashed under the burning dragon. He too got away from the giant aflame lizard when it hit the earth with the force of a shooting star. The earth trembled under the force as the beast’s limbs fell one by one. The King remembered the happiness and relief that settled in his heart for naught but a moment. His joy was caught short when he heard a noise like a whip cutting the air. A warning yell made him look up only to see the burning tail of the dragon coming towards him and his legion with unbelievable speed. Thranduil only got time to turn towards his right as the huge lash of fire hit them.

 

The Sindar knew nothing of his legion anymore, nor from his captains or soldiers. At first his vision was cut and all he saw were flames of orange and red. He saw them before he felt them and then his eyes burned in his skull. The hit came next before he could cry out in pain from his burning eyes. The tail stroke him all over his body and the pain was too much for him to comprehend. He was thrown to the air. He could not see it but he could feel it in the pit of his stomach as he flew many feet above the ground and then the feeling of falling came; of piercing the air so fast that any sound except the wind could not enter his ears, not even the screams of hurt companions. And then he hit the ground, so hard. He heard his bones break. The pain was all he could feel.

 

His arm-shields had been detached from him, he couldn’t feel the weight of them; or maybe his arms had lost sensation. But the breastplate had melted into his skin due to the heat. He could smell the burnt flesh and it was coming from himself. His left side burned in indescribable pain as if melted iron had been poured on his skin; no, inside his skin. But the worst was his eyes. He could not see and his eyes burned like they were flames coming out of his skull.

 

Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming very loud, long and continuous. It was utterly animalistic like sharp howls of hungry wolves, a crying shriek from the deepest shadows of his soul. It was rising from the throat of one drowning in the greatest agony. The screams were twisting Thranduil’s heart and for some reason he felt his lungs might just jump out of his mouth.

 

It took a while but at last hands found him. Not that he could feel them, he just knew when they turned him on his back making the smell of earth go away from his nostrils and causing him even more pain. They fussed with him. Some familiar voice shouted orders. The screams continued. A hand was on his right jaw shaking his head slightly and calling his name. He couldn’t answer, his face burned and the muscles felt missing. The voice calling him was so familiar but he couldn’t recognize it over the sound of the screams. He just wished they could stop it. He could no longer tell if his eyes were open or closed. It was dark with spots of red often dancing in front of him. His face hurt indescribably and his ears whistled from the sharp screamed that seemed unstoppable and full of agony. It took Thranduil a long while before he found out the screams were arising from the depths of his own throat.

 

He fell into the world of unconsciousness before he could stop wailing like a hunted beast. His body could no longer endure the pain and failed his mind. The last thing he saw before passing out were hands of an elleth; pale and delicate against the dark blue fabric of her dress as they rested on the white strings of the harp. Her hair was dark and if she cared to scatter her locks in the air, day would have turned to night and they could continue their evening feasts veiled from the light of the sun. The last thing he remembered before darkness engulfed him completely were a pair of blue eyes, laughing at him. He wished he could sail to the undying lands in them.  

 

***

 

Two elves were carrying another on a stretcher as they ran. Six other jogged around them to protect them as they passed through the battle field and reached the tents of Greenwood. Galdor was torn between shooting worried looks to the injured figure and looking around for any potential danger. But the battle was over and there was no threat to them now. 

 

Thranduil no longer made a sound. The Steward assumed that he had lost consciousness due to extreme pain. It was making him mad with concern and fear. They finally reached the tent. The Peredhel barked orders but Galdor could not hear them clearly as if an invisible veil covered his ears.

 

The soldiers swept the maps and other objects from the table in the middle of the tent, throwing them to wherever they had the head to go. Then they lifted Thranduil and placed him on the table, the King still unconscious. The healer and Galdor approached the figure fast, trying to take off the heavy armor. The task seemed impossible. The clasps and straps had burned and melted from the heat and there was no way of undoing them. Elrond was the first who gave up and picked up a small hammer to break the deformed metal. The layers of melted elven armor tore Thranduil’s skin and flesh as it was peeled off but there was no option and comparing to the damage done by the dragon fire these were minor paper cuts. Galdor looked around frantically, his own breathing the only thing he could hear. The cleanest thing he could find was the sharp letter opener on the floor. He picked it up and tried to separate Thranduil’s flesh from the breast plate from where it had melted to his skin. The Steward tried his best to keep himself occupied and avoid looking at the King’s face. He didn’t wish to see the ruined features and the missing cheek, or the blood streaming down his closed eyelids. Blood slowly pooled under Thranduil and then spilled down from the table to the floor. All Galdor could see was the crimson and all that came to his nostrils was the stinging smell of burnt flesh and death; all he could hear was Thranduil’s screams on the battle field.

 

 

 

Galdor woke up with a start and jerked up only to be engulfed in Aleth’s arms who was sitting beside him on the bed. His whole body tremble and cold sweat had soaked his nightgown. It took him a few moments to register he was in his bed in their chambers in the stronghold. It was deep into the night and morning was hours away. He wrapped his arms around his wife and buried his face in her golden locks. Closing his eyes he tried to chase away the images that still haunted him.

 

“You were having a nightmare again…” she said.

 

Galdor nodded before they broke the hug. Aleth looked at him, worry dancing in her eyes that were so similar to Thranduil’s. She took the pitcher and poured some water in a glass as Galdor rubbed his eyes, she offered him the water and he drank like a man who had been lost in a desert.

 

“I cannot imagine what all of you have been through that it haunts you like this…” Aleth whispered as she watched him wipe the sweat from his brow.

 

“I should go check on Thranduil…” The Steward said as he tried to get up, ignoring the Princess’s comment.

 

“I was there not an hour ago. He is sleep, or he pretends to be…” Aleth shrugged. “I can’t tell anymore.”

 

“The more he sleeps the better…” Galdor proclaimed as he shoved his feet in his sleepers and put on a gown.

 

“Will he be alright, Galdor?” Aleth whispered as if saying it aloud would make the hope go away.

 

“It was a miracle that he survived in the first place…” Galdor shook his head. “Then it was due to the Vilya that Elrond could stop the inevitable.” The Steward continued. “The ring stopped the bleeding to some extent and I believe it soothed the pain…the fresh injuries looked like old wounds after that. But the Vilya couldn’t heal them completely because they were caused by dragon fire.”

 

“The wounds are awful…” Aleth sighed. “I just don’t know how Thranduil will stand again…”

 

“The magic of the Vilya will allow him to conceal the injuries with some sort of illusion as Elrond explained.” Galdor said braiding his hair hastily. “But it won’t make it any easier…”

 

“Leuthil should have been here…” the Princess growled angrily.

 

“I’ll sent her a message with the Lorien Marchwarden…” the Steward said.

 

“What good will it do now?” Aleth smirked bitterly.

 

“I know you’re angry with her but even if Thranduil manages to stand on his two feet again, he will need someone to lean on while he heals mentally…” Galdor smiled gently. “That someone is neither me nor you; it’s Leuthil.”

 

Aleth breathed dramatically as she stood and hugged her husband again. “I just wished I could take the pain away from both of you…” she said.

 

“We will be alright…” Galdor broke the hug and caressed her hair tenderly. He did not know if he truly believed in what he had just said but there was no point in worrying her. “Now get some sleep, it will be a hard day for us tomorrow at the council…”

 

“Thranduil is still alive and they are already whispering about an heir…” the Princess shook her head when she was reminded of the often heated arguments that had occurred in the court.

 

“Don’t think about these things…” Galdor said. He leaned and stole a kiss from Aleth’s lips before walking out of the door.

 

Galdor walked down the corridor that led to the royal chambers. His entire body hurt and he was exhausted. The Steward had found little sleep since the day of the battle and the toll of the fight and sleepless nights of distress was showing its physical effects on him. And even when he occasionally fell into slumber from fatigue those horrible scenes hunted him. He saw them all again; almost all of the King’s legion dead, bodies still stumbling with missing heads, soldier’s screaming from hands or legs cut off, and Thranduil; thrown faraway like an unwanted puppet; his limps resting on strange angles and blood splashing out like a crimson fountain from where half of his face was missing. The Steward would then remember his friend twisting and screaming from agony in the pool of his own blood. Galdor would then jerk out of slumber, with sweat covering his body and the sound of Thranduil’s heart-wrecking screams still in his ears. Restless and unable to sleep again he would wander around the corridors and then end up in Thranduil’s chambers again, just like this night.

 

The Steward entered the room silently, making sure that the door would not make a sound. It had become a habit to sneak into Thranduil’s room and sit beside his bed in silence. He didn’t think that the King even felt his presence as he never talked. Galdor assumed that he was asleep most of the time due to the unbelievable amount of painkillers they gave him. Though Galdor hated the fact, Elrond made the Sindar consume regular doses of opium and the Steward flinched whenever he was forced to watch his life companion take that dark liquid that had ruined Galdor’s family long ago; but who was he to protest against what the great healer said and the Steward knew Elrond had no other way to help the wounded King. Sometimes the pain was too strong for even the opium to stop it and the Peredhel’s only choice was to use chloroform to make Thranduil unconscious and relieve him from the agony at least for a few hours. So it did not surprise Galdor that the King slumbered when he sat beside him through the night and sensed nothing of his presence.

 

He entered the room and paced the distance to the bedside. Thranduil was sleeping. Not that the Steward could tell. The King had bandages all over his left torso, around his neck, the left side of his face and over both of his eyes. Immediately after they retrieved him from the battle field and brought him back to the camp, Elrond had used the Vilya upon Thranduil hoping that the healing power of the magical ring would help the wounds heal. It had helped but the curse of the dragon injury was even too much for the Vilya to heal completely. It had stopped the bleeding and soothed the burns to some extent but still the wounds were there looking back at them with insolence. Elrond had said that if they were normal injuries the Vilya would have healed them completely but wounds from a dragon were cursed with black spells. The Peredhel could only assure them that the Vilya would help heal his right eye that had been damaged less and that Thranduil would be able to conceal the wounds using the magical power of the ring transferred to his body. That was of course if he managed to survive them and the likely infection.

 

Galdor sat on the chair he sat every night. His gaze roamed on Thranduil’s form and his heart twisted. The Sindar was one of the fairest he had seen in his life. One could call him handsome but in the Steward’s opinion and many others his glamor extended to the realm of beauty. Now as he slept broken and wounded on his bed with ugly and bloodied bandages covering half his form and gore sticking under the white linen covering his eyes, still the right side of him was all alabaster skin and silken gold splayed on the pillows and a soft hand with long delicate fingers resting beside him on the sheets that Galdor ached to take but feared waking him up.

 

“I know you’re there…”

 

Thranduil’s whispered words made him jump as if he had shouted. The Steward’s heart beat rapidly but it was as if he had lost his tongue. He hadn’t readied himself to talk to Thranduil. Since that disastrous day he hadn’t talked to Thranduil properly. No descent conversation had taken place between them except some nonsense words to sooth and comfort the King in agony. In fact no one had talked the Sindar after that day; it wasn’t as if he could form any coherent sentences that did not end up in screams of pain. Only Elrond had managed to talk to him from time to time. Galdor knew that the King had become slightly better and that the pain was not as it was before and probably Thranduil could now talk but the Sindar had avoided any kind of conversation still; pretending he was asleep most of the time.

 With great difficulty Thranduil turned his head to his right where he apparently knew someone was sitting. Galdor was petrified like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake and he felt stupid. It was the same Thranduil but he felt as if he was facing another person entirely.

 

“Who are you?” the King asked in whispered words. “You come here every night but you say nothing and in the morning you leave without a single word.” Galdor listened to his hoarse voice and marveled at the fact that all those endless hours he had sat there in silence Thranduil had been awake and understanding. “…I even sometimes hear you cry. At first I thought I’ve gone mad and was hallucinating but you _are_ real.”

 

The silence stretched. As if someone had an iron grip on his throat Galdor could not say anything. Thranduil swallowed and licked his lips as if he was uncertain if he truly was not imagining.

“Please talk to me…” he whispered and Galdor closed his eyes at how broken and helpless he sounded. “It’s so dark here…and I’m so alone…”

 

Before he knew Galdor had reached for his hand and the lump in his throat was too much. He took Thranduil’s hand in both of his and his tears streamed down his face silently. He would have sobbed loudly if he could but did not want to upset the king more than this.

 

“Galdor…” Thranduil sighed in recognition almost immediately after the Steward touched him; as if he knew by heart how his hands felt. There was no question or doubt in his voice, only relief.

 

The Steward pressed the soft hand in his as the emotions overwhelmed him. This person, this broken elf on this bed was no simple stranger, no simple king. He was the only friend he ever had through centuries of life. Galdor had no family except Aleth and even that was because of that day he met Thranduil on the riverside. Thranduil was everything to him; his life and his death. The fear of losing him was the worst terror Galdor had ever experienced and he would have endured the Sindar’s pain ten times over if he knew he could lessen his agony.

The Steward brought Thranduil’s hand to his lips and kissed the soft knuckles. He kissed every finger and then his palm as his tears dropped on the blonde’s wrist. Thranduil’s hand was shaking and Galdor knew he too was crying under the bandages covering his eyes.

 

“Galdor…” he whispered again. “Come sleep beside me...please; I’m so alone.”

 

“I might hurt you…” the Steward protested weakly, his voice choked with sobs.

 

“I cannot be more hurt than what I already am…” Thranduil said. “Please…I feel if I live through this night, I can survive…”

 

Galdor wiped his tears and kicking his sleepers off he climbed up the bed on Thranduil’s good side. He rested beside the King minding of his injuries as he placed his head on the pillow with him just like they used to when they were kids. Dirty and wounded still the Sindar’s hair smelled of the forest spring. Thranduil shifted slightly to bring himself closer to the Steward but the pain made him groan. Galdor saved him the movement and crawled closer until their bodies were touching and they were sharing each other’s warmth. Bothe fell into dreamless slumber with hopes of better days.

 

***

 

_My Dearest Leuthil;_

_After two months of receiving no answers from you, I no longer know what to write. But I will keep writing until the day I see you again at the gates of my halls. I will take you in my arms then and never let go. I regret the decision every day and if I could go back in time I would have never let you leave. All I can do is to hope that your time in the Golden Wood is helping you heal._

_The Lady Galadriel has been kinder than you. Despite our animosity and my harsh behavior towards her in the past she writes to me regularly on how you are doing. I think it is dishonoring and ridiculous that I have to get your news from her but still I am thankful for the little update I can get._

_I cannot sleep well. My dreams are haunted by the memories of our daughter and when I wake up panicked from the nightmares I find my bed empty and myself alone. So I no longer sleep there. I have taken into going into the forest at night. No one knows really and they seem to not notice as I sneak past the guards like a thief. I go deep into the woods where no one can find me. It has helped me reconnect with my forest. I can hear the trees again and I listen to them whisper all night. I wished you were here so that I could share these moments with you and we could heal and perhaps make a better future together._

_I wake up every day in hopes of your return. My wings are broken and my dreams are shattered just like you. But we can built them again together. We can endure the pain together. I still believe in that but each day that passes without you I fear more and I feel my faith wavering. I am scared that I will end up alone, that we both end up alone. Please my love, come back to me…_

_Your Thranduil_

 

Leuthil brought the parchment to her face and inhaled deeply. When first this letter had arrived it had smelled of the woods in the spring rain; it had smelled like Thranduil. Perhaps because Thranduil had touched it if the neat and beautiful handwriting and the traces of dried tears were any indication. But now no scent lingered on the paper. It was no surprise. It had been long since Thranduil’s last letter. For the first two months after her departure the King had written to Leuthil almost every week, sending the letter by raven and occasionally by a messenger. But after this last letter the Woodland Queen had received nothing. For a month now Leuthil had heard nothing of her husband and no letter had reached her. At first she ignored it but then she asked the people in charge and even the Lady Galadriel. Though she had a knowing look on her eyes she said that they had received nothing form the Elvenking.

 

As the Queen sat on her bed in her guestroom with the folded parchment in her hand worry crept into her heart for the hundredth time. She had heartlessly left all of Thranduil’s letters unanswered. But the King had kept writing. And somehow she found herself waiting for those messages and kind words written in curved letters.

 

Her daughter’s death had bent the Queen’s back. She couldn’t even endure to mention her name in her mind. At first it all had seemed like a big bad joke. But soon Leuthil had to face the fact that her child had been killed by unknown people who wanted her husband’s death as well. Her endless and motherly love had betrayed her and even in the height of her agony she had wished that Thranduil had died and Negaar had lived. Watching Thranduil destroy everything they had left of her and their past had not helped either. It was easy to see Thranduil as the reason of her death when he was acting so callous. It was easy to blame him. It had lessen the pain then.

 

Leaving Greenwood had not been hard for Leuthil. All she could find in those halls were sadness and the echo of her child’s laughter. She knew she had ran away but the Queen couldn’t blame herself for that. In fact the time away had given her the chance to think.

 

With the protection of the Nenya, Golden Wood looked much like Greenwood before the darkness had made them run away to the north. The woods were quiet and peaceful with the Lord and Lady always watchful. It was strange to be in such a peace while Leuthil knew that outside the protected borders the world was sinking in darkness and elves of the same race and origins had to fight with horrors every day to defend their realm. It made the Queen think how unjust the world was and a tingle of pride grew in her chest when she realized that her husband had managed to keep his people afloat without one of the rings.

Here Leuthil had time to think that in the depths of her heart she never truly blamed Thranduil for what happened. He could have never known his skin had been toxic. She just wished she could’ve saved her daughter; _their_ daughter, and in her anger she had upset her husband. She had forgotten or perhaps ignored the fact that he too had been burned with pain and he too had lost a beloved daughter. In her pain she had forgotten how she had almost lost him to poison as well and in the silence of the nights in Lorien when all were asleep the Queen of Greenwood thanked the Valar for sparing Thranduil.

 

The sun was already half way across the sky so Leuthil rose from her place and started putting on leggings and a simple tunic. While she was still unmarried the Silvan used to spend a lot of time in nature, collecting herbs or wood. She used to wear such clothes in those times. Marrying Thranduil and becoming a Queen had snatched her away from that life. She constantly wore elegant garments made of expensive fabric and the weight of priceless tiaras were always upon her head. She would never complain for the luxury of her life but Leuthil appreciated that here she could do the things she had missed with no one asking her why.

 

She picked up her bow and walked out of the door. Three months of staying here had made her an expert in locating herself in the complex curves and twists of the palace. She no longer struggled to find herself there and soon she was out and in the woods going to the clearing where she intended to meet Glorfindel.

 

She found the Lord already there and fussing with an archery target board. He raised his golden head and smiled at her when she approached. “Good morning…” he greeted.

 

“Good morning…” the Queen replied as she took the quiver full of arrows from him. “I thought we were practicing sword fight today.”

 

“We will…” Glorfindel said. “But we’ve concentrated on your sword fight for weeks. I fear you might forget how to shoot a bow.”

 

“You told me I was a natural when it came to archery!” the Silvan raised her eyebrows making the Lord chuckle.

 

“You are…” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t forget.”

 

“I think I’m wasting my time like this…” Leuthil nagged as she pulled an arrow out of the quiver.

 

“You told me you wish to learn how to protect yourself and I’m teaching you…” Glorfindel crossed his arms over his chest. “One does not disobey her trainer!”  

 

Leuthil sighed as she stretched the bow closing one eye. She tried to concentrate but she could constantly feel the weight of Thranduil’s letters on her mind and the concern was back. Before she knew she had released the string and the arrow left her control. When it came to archery she had managed to hit the target right on the center after only three sessions of practice and Glorfindel’s priceless face then had made her smile despite her sorrow. But today the arrow hit the target on the furthest line from the center. Glorfindel frowned.

 

“Try again…” he encouraged.

 

The Silvan nodded as she took another arrow and fixed it on the stretched bow. She focused her mind on the reason she had started to learn the art of war. Protecting herself was one thing but the main reason was something completely different. Although she knew Thranduil was searching under every rock in his forest to find the culprit behind their daughter’s death Leuthil too wanted revenge. The thirst for justice and recompense was the first thing she had felt aside from sorrow when the numbness had left her eventually after weeks in Lorien. They would eventually find the murderer and when they did Leuthil would not allow him to stay alive…she wanted to be ready. Every time she shot the arrow the Queen imagined a faceless person in her mind and shot him. The arrow always hit the target but today was different. Her hands were sweaty and her vision seemed to fail her and for some reason her heart throbbed with worry. The arrow she shot not only did not hit the target on the center but past above the target board and landed somewhere on the forest floor probably making some ants homeless.

 

Leuthil turned crimson from embarrassment. It was a thing messing up in front of your trainer it was another thing in front of the great Balrog-Slayer. Glorfindel merely fetched the arrow and walked back to her lazily.

 

“Your mind is not here!” he commented smartly shaking the arrow. “What has your brain so occupied?”

 

Leuthil picked the edge of her bow for a moment before answering but lying to Glorfindel was unduly. “It’s been a months since last I heard of Thranduil…” she said. “I’m worried.”

 

The Lord of the Golden Flower gazed at her for a few moments before he walked to a fallen branch and sat on it tapping beside him for Leuthil to sit down.

 

“Perhaps he’s given up writing after two months of receiving no answer from you…” he said while he followed the Queen with his eyes as she sat.

 

“The Thranduil I knew would have never given up…” she said. “There has been no messenger from Greenwood either. This silence concerns me.”

 

Leuthil caught the Balrog-Slayer smiling and she raised her eyebrows expectantly to urge him to explain what amused him so much.

“I just remembered the time when you thought you hated him not three months past.” He explained. “Now you’re worried about him. I’m happy that your feelings have shifted.”

 

“I didn’t hate him, I was angry and sorrowful…” the Queen corrected but then she frowned. “I thought you’d be upset…”

 

“I’ve already confessed my feelings for you and you’ve been honest enough to tell me you did not return my affection and for me that is enough…” Glorfindel said solemnly. “But still you are important to me and knowing how much you love him I’m happy that you’re getting your real feelings back even if they are towards someone I do not like.”

 

Leuthil remembered the day not too long after they had arrived in Lorien when Glorfindel told her bluntly that he had some kind of affection towards her. He was honest enough to tell her it was not love but that it could be and he had told her that he did not expect anything in return from her but that he merely wanted her to know. He had not attempted to approach her in any inappropriate way and Leuthil was thankful for his honor and understanding and for his caution while she was weak. The training sessions they had started not long after had only increased their friendship and not a single time until now had the Lord mentioned that conversation again.

 

“I wish to go back home…” the Queen sighed finally.

 

“I think it’s a wise choice…” Glorfindel said which surprised the Queen since she knew how the Lord loved the Golden Wood.

 

“I thought you liked it here…” she said.

 

“I do…and I definitely don’t like your dense, mystic forest nor her King…” he explained wrinkling his nose.  “But I want what is best for you…and I think that is for you to return to your husband though I think he’s a prejudiced oppressor. You need him as much as he surely needs you.”

 

“It would be strange to go back…” she said gazing at the woods around them. “My time here was like going back in time to the days I was still free and unburdened with the duties of being his Queen. It’s hard to go back to that again.”

 

“Lorien has had her benefits for you. You are different elleth now. You’re stronger and able to protect yourself, be it orc or a patriarch husband you love…” Glorfindel said with a bluntness the Silvan always enjoyed. “I think your time as a real queen will just begin by your return now. The Elvenking would need a powerful consort in these dire times and if you ever need support you always have a friend in me…”

 

“I know…” the Queen smiled and Glorfindel smiled back.

 

“We’ll leave as soon as you wish…” he said then.

 

“I think the day after tomorrow so that I have time to talk to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn and thank them properly for their hospitality.” She replied.

 

Glorfindel opened his mouth to assure her that everything would be ready by then but the sight of a soldier approaching them with haste took both of their attentions and without knowing the Silvan and the Noldor both rose from their places.

 

The ellon reached them and Glorfindel immediately recognized his grey cloak and knew that he was among those who patrolled around the forest. He gave both of them a bow before turning to the Woodland Queen.

 

“My Lady…” he said. “Lady Galadriel would like to see you right now.”

 

Leuthil exchanged a worried glance with Glorfindel before asking the guard to lead the way while the Balrog-Slayer stood behind. The complexity of pathways and corridors frustrated her in her haste and the anxiousness that had been lingering inside her chest rose into and an unnerving level until they reached the hall where the Lord and Lady of Lorien accepted audience. She was allowed inside with respect and no hesitation and for the hundredth time her breath hitched by the beauty of that hall.

 

Lady Galadriel was there along with her husband. There was another elf taking to them that Leuthil had learned to be Haldir, the respected marchwarden of Lorien. Her father was with them as well and he swayed on his feet. A sign that he was nervous and the anxious glances he sent his way testified to that. The four stopped their conversation when she walked inside and the doors were closed behind her. She gave the Lady and Lord a courteous nod before Haldir bowed and greeted her. But the Woodland Queen could sense the tension badly.

 

“Thank you Lady Leuthil for coming…” Celeborn said. “Master Haldir here had news that I think you ought to hear as well.”

 

Leuthil said nothing but her heart sank inside her chest uncomfortably as she turned towards Haldir. He was a handsome elf but at that moment his hair was messy and quiet dirty and his cloak was more dust than fabric. Leuthil ignored his demeanor, dismissing it for the dust and toll of travel but she noted his hands that were bandaged and the slight cuts and bruises on his face and arms. The elf’s blue eyes found hers and he shifted uncomfortably glancing at the Lord and Lady before explaining.

 

“Less than two months ago we received a letter from Lord Elrond and King Thranduil saying that he they were leading an army of alliance towards Gundabad. They said foul creatures have been spotted there and there were mentions of dragons…”

 

“They had asked for our counsel and our forces in alliance.” Galadriel said with her captivating voice yet Leuthil could sense a tingle of concern in it. “I sent our best forces with Haldir not 15 days later during which we had tried day and night to forge as many arrows as we could from black steal that is the only weapon to bring down a dragon.”

 

“Why am I hearing of this now…” Leuthil said annoyed.

 

“The last letter the King had sent to you had arrived with the letter he and Elrond had sent.” Celeborn was the one to answer. “We thought the Elvenking has informed you my lady, and that if he has not he has good reason for it…”

 

Leuthil could not argue with that though she very much liked to but Haldir seemed impatient to tell the rest of the tale so she turned to him again sensing there were more important things to hear.

 

“We were supposed to meet with Imladris and Mirkwood forces in a camp a few miles away from Gundabad.” He explained. “But…when we arrived the battle had already started, there was a full army of elves and that dragon was already set loose... I had never seen anything like it…” Haldir trembled and trailed off and looked at his lady as if begging her to spare him from telling the tale. But Galadriel nodded encouragingly. So the Marchwarden continued. “We started shooting the creature with the arrows and Imladris and Mirkwood armies took care of the orcs and the battle was won.”

 

The ellon paused and took a deep shaky breath. “So why are you so shaken and nervous if the battle was one..?” the Queen asked impatiently.

 

“The dragon flew to the sky while we were shooting it and before it died it went aflame and crashed to the ground…most managed to flee from under it…but…but…” the Marchwarden seemed to be choking but at last he raised his head and looked Leuthil straight in the eye and the Queen could see the horror there. “Its tail…it hit the Elvenking and his legion…”

 

Leuthil could not breathe as if they had placed a great iron plate on her chest and they were pressing. She doubted if anyone had seen a dragon before, but she also doubted if anyone had not read the tales. Dragon’s tail was at least sixty feet long. One would not simply survive it and Haldir had mentioned it had been aflame.

 

Horrible thoughts immediately found their way to her mind. She remembered how horribly she had left Thranduil alone. How she had broken his heart that day while he had begged her to stay. The unspoken words and the unshown love weighed down on her as the possibility of losing her one sounded so close and palpable.

 

“Thranduil?” she asked, feeling the tears of fear pooling in her eyes and . She couldn’t form a proper sentence and was thankful that the Marchwarden understood what she was asking.

 

“The Elvenking survived my Lady, but barely. However he’s not good…no one knows what the future will bring for him.” He explained. “Lord Galdor asked me to ride ahead of my troops and inform you. He demanded for you to return quickly.”

 

 

 

 


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be half a chapter but i decided to post it alone so that I could gather my mind and right the other half! Thanks again for following, reading and commenting :)

Thranduil’s heart had taken an uncomfortable beating pace. It was as if it was going to jump out of his chest. It was not out of excitement but out of a sickening anticipation and fear. Within each second waiting patiently for Elrond to slowly remove the bandages became more and more difficult. The wait was more painful than the wounds that were slowly becoming exposed to the open air. His eyes were released first and the King immediately opened them.

 

The morning light blinded him but he did not close his eyes as Elrond wiped away the gore with clean linen. For a while he couldn’t see anything but after blinking a few times slowly his blurry vision became sharper in comparison. However he could not see anything on his left and the vision his that eye used to cover was now replaced by pure darkness. His right eye was good but it was as if he was looking at the world though a dirty glass. The limitation of his blinded eye made him panic. Yes he had become blind in one eye and cold sweat ran down his spine as he was forced to finally believe the fact. He heard Galdor shift on his left but he could not see him without turning his head. The panic that surged through him was overwhelming. Galdor was his friend; but what if a foe was standing on his left? Insecurity crept into his heart and settled there beside sorrow that had become the landlord of his chest.

 

He gasped as the bandages over his cheek were removed and his hand immediately flew to his face as the open air found its way to his skin and an uncomfortable cold touched his teeth. The coldness made a flash of pain shoot up his skull and up his face and it felt as if his teeth were exposed.

 

“The feeling on your teeth and face will become better as you get used to it…” Elrond said as he threw the ruined linen in a basket and looked back at him. “Follow my finger…” he ordered and swayed his index finger in front of Thranduil and the King followed it with his good eye.

 

The Peredhel nodded seemingly satisfied with what he had examined. “Your recovery has been remarkable…It’s almost a miracle that we could save your right eye…”

 

“Give me a mirror…” Thranduil interrupted.

 

He watched as Elrond exchanged a look with Galdor and his heart almost jerk out of its place. His palms were sweating. He had noticed that all the mirrors had been removed from the room but had not given it much thought until now. He could sense Galdor’s anxiety beside him. “Give me a mirror…”

 

“Thranduil perhaps it’s better if…” Elrond started carefully but was silenced when the King jumped from his seat.

 

“I said give me a mirror!” he interrupted in a dangerously low tone. From this angle he could see Galdor looking down as if he could not look at his friend. It made it harder to control the panic that was swelling inside him.

 

“Thranduil you need not worry about what the scars look like…” Elrond said in a fake calm tone. “You can make an illusion…”

 

“YOU’VE ALREADY TOLD ME ABOUT THE ILLUTION!” Thranduil screamed like a psychopath catching Elrond off guard as he lost his patience. “NOW GIVE ME A FUCKING MIRROR!”

 

Thranduil was trembling head to toe as he waited for the Peredhel and Galdor to shake of the shock he had caused them by screaming like a wild animal. Alas Elrond nodded at the Steward reluctantly and after shifting his weigh from one foot to the other a few times Galdor walked to the closet and pulled out a hand mirror. Handing it to Thranduil was done even more hesitantly with uncertain glances thrown on the Peredhel. The King grasped the mirror sharply and without a moment hesitation looked at his reflection.

 

Time stopped. It was not his reflection he had known thousands of years staring back at him. It was a monster. Where once was his aquamarine eye that pinned any being on Middle-Earth with a single glance was a clouded whiteness. No sign of his pale smooth skin was left as if it had been thorn off like scissors can rip of a cotton doll. Disgusting crimson flesh and surrealistic tendons looked back at him and amidst them he could even see his teeth which would explain the coldness he had felt before.

 

The King took a step back and sat on the bed again knowing his legs could not handle his weight anymore. He watched the creature in the glass, his right eye dancing up and down a dozen of times. He could even see disbelief in his own orb. He watched until his stomach turnned and he felt like vomiting. It was then that he brought the mirror down as if it had stung him dropping it face down on the mattress.

 

Elrond and Galdor were uncertain. They exchanged looks and then stared back at Thranduil again. The King then stretched his arm and motioned for Galdor to take the mirror from him. The Steward approached and took it as he gazed at the King. Thranduil had retreated into himself and it scared Galdor. “Thranduil…” he whispered.

 

“Leave me alone…” the King demanded in a tone that left no room for discussion.

 

Still the Steward looked up at Elrond not sure if it was safe the leave Thranduil although they had predicted this and removed any object form the room that might have caused harm. Elrond nodded silently telling him that it was best not to enrage the King further. So Galdor turned and walked to the door, the Peredhel following.

 

They had barely closed the door that Thranduil’s mad screams and wails of frustration rose. Galdor could hear him curse and cry and then the noise of breaking furniture and glass followed. Alarmed the Steward turned to go back inside, to stop Thranduil and gather him in his arms and tell his all will be well but the Peredhel’s firm hand on his elbow stopped him. He turned towards the Imladiran lord sharply to argue but Elrond’s solemn and knowing face stopped him.

 

“Leave him be…” he said. “You cannot help him. He needs to deal with it alone.”

 

***

 

They had been delayed almost four days because of autumn continuous rains. The roads were muddy and even elvish sight was decreased by the fog that had spread its rule across the forest. The journey had taken almost two weeks as they were constantly delayed by the storms or scattered giant spiders while passing near the former capital. So when the party finally reached the stronghold on the north the Queen hopped off her steed just as they came to halt in the courtyard and ran inside. She ignored the court bows and courtesies of the inhabitants who eyed her leggings and tunic judgingly as she walked, almost ran past them, from corridor to corridor to reach the royal bedchambers where she assumed Thranduil was.

 

Erhan’s familiar face came into view as she turned on the last curve of the hall, standing guard at the King’s door. He looked up alarmed as he heard someone approaching and when he recognized who it was another kind of anticipation and distress settled on his young face which to Leuthil looked much older just after three and a half months.

 

“My lady…” he bowed his head as the Queen reached him. “Welcome back.”

 

“Is he inside?” Leuthil asked without introduction.

 

“Yes my lady…” Erhan replied.

 

Leuthil nodded and tried to go inside but was stopped by the sentry placing a hand on the doorknob to prevent her. She looked up at him questioningly and a little annoyed. “No one is allowed to enter, my lady.” He explained cautiously.

 

“I’m not just anyone, Erhan…” the Queen growled. “Move!”

 

“Forgive me my lady…” the guard said apologetically. “I have strict orders…”

 

“Step aside Erhan!” Leuthil raised her voice as frustration took over her.

 

Before the quarrel could go further the door to the royal chambers opened slightly and Galdor slipped outside. He looked exhausted. Dark patches were under his eyes and he looked as if he would faint right there.

 

“Galdor…” the Queen sighed and watched as a tired smile adorned the Stewards face.

 

“Welcome back my lady, it’s good to see you…” he greeted. “However I must ask that you keep your voice down…the King is resting.”

 

“He doesn’t let me in!” Leuthil complained pointing at Erhan and glaring at him.

 

“Erhan is not at fault.” Galdor shook his head. “It’s his majesties orders; he doesn’t wish to have visitors.”

 

“Galdor, I’m his wife…” the Queen said stressing on each word. “I want to see him!”

 

“I’m sorry my lady, but he has specifically banned you from entering.”

 

Leuthil opened her mouth to respond but then Galdor’s words registered in her mind. She couldn’t believe Thranduil was sulking. He was always straight to the point and blunt, this was not his way. Moreover it hurt her to see he had not wanted to see her after all this time. But all these emotions were secondary comparing to the worry that was killing her. She needed to see him and make sure he was alright. To end this period of bitterness. She looked up at Galdor who was gazing at her apologetically as if begging her silently to understand and not to argue with him.   


 

“Welcome back Leuthil…”

 

Aleth’s flat tone made the three of them jump as she appeared out of nowhere. Leuthil smiled at her despite herself but the Princess did not return it as she walked closer eyes cold and jaw set. She looked like Thranduil when he was forced to negotiate with a party he did not like. The Princess too looked tired but determined and strong as well.

 

“Come…” she said when she stood face to face with the Queen. “We need to talk…”

 

“I want to see Thranduil first…” Leuthil insisted.

 

“Well he doesn’t want to see you now!” Aleth said firmly voice slightly raised which caught Leuthil off guard.

 

“Ladies please!” Galdor interrupted standing between the two. “Take your argument elsewhere.”

 

“You cannot ban me from my own bedchambers Galdor!” Leuthil hissed.

 

“Galdor’s not banning you from anywhere Leuthil…” Aleth answered instead. “Thranduil is recovering and does not wish to be disturbed by anyone!”

 

“…And his mental state is very unstable, my lady…” Galdor continued his wife’s words. “Regarding his condition it is wise to respect his wishes. But I assure you that he’s alright and the worst has passed.”

 

Leuthil wanted to argue further, but there was a look on the Steward’s face that made her think better of it. Her heart was still wrecked and the concern was still consuming her. But something in the pleading look Galdor was sending him told her not to protest and listen to them. So she nodded reluctantly which was followed with a relieved sigh from Galdor who ran his hands on his face as if to wipe the stress and pressure away.

 

“Will you tell him I came…?” she asked defeated.

 

“Of course…” the Steward smiled.

 

The Queen felt Aleth’s hand on her arm not as unkindly as before. She turned to face the Princess who seemed hardened by the events that Leuthil had seemingly missed.

“Come Leuthil…a bed chamber has been readied for you. I will tell you everything once we are there…” she said as she urged the Queen to go with her. “There are other matters we need to talk about as well.

 

***

 

As the ladies walked away Galdor leaned on the wall and rubbed his eyes. He had shooed the Queen away for now but he knew he could not keep her away for long. She had the right to know despite Thranduil hiding away. The Steward was torn between what he knew to be right and what his friend and king wanted.

 

“Galdor…”

 

He opened his eyes to Alheru’s soft voice. The Lord had come to stand beside him quietly and had a worried expression on his face. After months of dealing with problems without him Galdor had realized the value of having the Queen’s father around.

 

“How is he?” the Lord asked.

 

The lump that had come to stay in Galdor’s throat and had no head to leave grew even more. His eyes burned from exhaustion or perhaps sorrow and he felt his back breaking under the pressure of it all. Remaining up right when Thranduil had broken down had wearied the Steward greatly.

“Ruined…” he whispered and from the look on Alheru’s face he knew the Lord understood.

 

“I want to see him…” he said.

 

“My lord…” Galdor tried to protest but seeing Alheru’s stern gaze he thought better of it. He might have been over the Lord in status but this ellon was the person who had thought Thranduil and he how to wield a sword and the Steward dared not defy him even if it meant the King’s wrath. On the other hand he thought that it might be good for Thranduil to see someone other than Elrond and himself so he nodded and walked inside before the lord.

 

Thranduil was sitting on the bed leaning his back on the headboard gazing at a point that did not exist like he had done so since Elrond had removed the bandages from his face and neck. Since he had been able to sit he spent hours like this doing nothing with a sheet draped on his head like a veil covering the scarred part of his face. Galdor had tried to tell him many times that there was no need to cover them while he concealed them with the illusion the Peredhel had provided him with and that the white linen made him look like a ghost. But Thranduil feared those times that he lost control over the illusion due to extreme pain or extreme emotions allowing the ugly injuries to be seen by the eyes of the world. It had become the Sindar’s shame and Thranduil was not one to be shameful.

 

As Alheru walked inside the chamber the King’s visible right eye moved from that nonexistent point on the wall and he gazed at his father in law whom he had not seen in a couple of months. His gaze was dull yet piercing, somehow when he looked at them with that one healthy eye it cut deeper into their souls; perhaps because it was filled with agony and rage towards his fate. Slowly Alheru approached the bed and thoughtfully sat on the right side of the mattress.

 

“How are you ion-nin?” the lord asked softly.

 

The dullness in Thranduil’s eye rapidly turned to harshness as if he was a provoked wild beast. “Very good, actually life has not ever been better!” he said cheekily. Alheru was taken aback but he said nothing. The King then rolled his eye and sat straighter before locking his eye with the lord again.

“I had demanded from Galdor not to bother you…” Thranduil said throwing an annoyed look at the Steward. “But no one really obeys my orders these days!”

 

“The Queen had the right to know!” Galdor defended making the King breathe an angry breath.

 

“She’s here you know…” Alheru said carefully.

 

“Yes I heard her…” the Sindar replied though something in his demeanor changed. He looked more sorrowful and it was as if fear had crept into his heart.

 

“She wanted to see you…” Galdor said.

 

“There’s nothing for her to see…” the King snapped.

 

Alheru exchanged a worried glance with Galdor and in the Steward’s eyes he saw that he had tried to pull the Sindar from his self-loathing many times and had failed over and over again. The lord pulled himself closer to the King. He saw Thranduil tense like a frightened deer but paid it no mind.

 

“Let me see…” he said in fatherly manner as he reached out to Thranduil. “I’m sure it’s hardly that bad.”

 

Before his arm had stretched half the way the King cut him back with a rapid jerk of his own hand showing Alheru that he did not wish to be observed. But if the Silvan would not have seen what they were dealing with he could not help the King. The lord tried once again, this time Thranduil jerked out of the bed in panic. “Don’t touch me!” he snarled showing his teeth like a feline as he pushed Alheru back strongly throwing the lord back on the mattress violently.

 

Alheru’s breath hitched both as for the King’s harsh behavior took him as surprise and horror crept into his heart when the sheet on Thranduil’s face slipped to the ground as he had jumped up. Just from seeing the horrified look on Alheru’s face the Sindar knew he had lost control over the illusion again and started covering the ruined side of his face with his hair frantically, clawing in the golden locks. He breathed heavily as if there was no air in the room. He could not see the small table on his left where fancy crystal bottles of wine were place but he needed the drink. It was only by getting drunk that he could forget what a monster he had become. The blond reached out blindly knocking a bottle. The glass shattered as it fell to the stone floor. Thranduil growled in frustration as he reached for the other bottle and with shaky hands poured a glass and downed it in one attempt. He placed the glass back on the table and poured again. Meanwhile Alheru had managed to slowly get up from the bed and he exchanged looks with Galdor as they watched his hysterical actions. Thranduil was aware of this, he could sense it more than he could see it from behind the golden veil of his hair. He could feel their frustration and helplessness. They had become tired of him.

 

“Elrond said you must not drink wine…” the Steward finally lost patience.

 

With that Thranduil’s rage took over him and he looked up at Galdor with that horrid face. The Steward did not flinch nor did he disgust away. He only had a look of determination on his face. It somehow angered Thranduil even more. “Get out of my chamber…” he yelled. “Both of you…”

 

The two hesitated looking at each other, as if they were dealing with a wild animal, as if Thranduil had no mind and no logic and no will of his own. It was not how he was used to be treated. “I SAID GET OUT!” he screamed.

 

Galdor was the first to move. He walked backwards towards the door as if he was afraid the Sindar might attack him from behind. Alheru followed. Before closing the door the Steward gave him a look of frustration and of exhaustion as if he was tired of Thranduil’s antics and the King knew well he had every right to be. But when Galdor shut the door with a little more force than necessary the Sindar immediately lost that maddening desire for them to leave for in reality he did not wish to be left alone. He feared to be abandoned specially by Galdor and panic surged through him as well as remorse for behaving in that way. But he couldn’t control himself. Leuthil’s arrival disturbed his already wrecked nerves. His entire body trembled and he felt the urge to bury himself and his nasty face under layers of blankets. The King longed to see her, to hold her in his arms and believe that she had returned to him. But he knew he couldn’t do so without scaring her. He couldn’t endure the disgusted look on her face. He couldn’t ruin her life. He only wished she had returned sooner, before all these tragedies.

 

Thranduil raised the glass to down the wine he had been holding but before it reached his lips his eyes fell on his image in the mirror he had so stubbornly asked Galdor to return to his chamber. The scars laughed at him and his clouded eye looked back with an impudence he could not take. Before he knew he had thrown the glass of wine to the mirror.

 

Crimson wine splashed on the wall like blood as the cup hit the mirror and broke it. The huge pieces of glass fell on the floor with a deafening noise. And then it was silence. For a moment Thranduil felt relieved for that traitorous glass was gone but when he walked closer he could see hundreds of horrid faces looking back at him in the pieces of the broken mirror.  

 

***

 

Leuthil had sat in the council meeting before. In fact she had done so many times. But she had never been there without Thranduil or Galdor leading the meeting. Today she was there alone among the elders of the realm. Despite still being cross with her Aleth had been supportive but even her encouraging presence could not sooth the Queen’s nerves. It was a confused situation. As the Queen she had the weight of representing the King however it was Miklovand who was in charge of the meeting seemingly as the King’s brother; creating a jumbled conflict of power.

 

“The condition of the army is terrible and because of Lord Alheru’s absence almost no novice soldier has been trained…” Miklovand explained. “I insist that we lower the age of military service and make it compulsory.”

 

“Both of those suggestions are contrary to the King’s orders…” Alheru barked.

 

“Well the King is not here to decide on it is he!?” the Captain snapped, frustrated after hours of discussing this matter to no avail.

 

“King Thranduil does not want adolescents to join the army…” Lady Meriloth said throwing the long sleeves of her dress back as if she was preparing herself for a fight. “He wants them to study and have the right to choose, and I as a member of the council respect that!”

 

“This realm cannot defend itself with sentiments Lady Meriloth…” Miklovand argued. “I am the one patrolling around the borders…we need more men!”

 

“A powerful army is not the only thing this this realm needs Captain!” the Lady almost yelled, fisting the table. “The Woodland needs people to continue her culture!”

 

“No culture will remain without an army to defend it!” Miklovand jumped from his seat. The lady also jerked up.

 

“Enough!” the Queen’s command silenced them and they both looked at her with dumb expressions. “Please take your seats and remain calm! We cannot solve this matter if you continue arguing.”

 

They did obey but not after a great deal of glaring at one another. When finally everyone was seated Leuthil cleared her throat and regarded them. “I understand that the army has weakened after the battle, yet I am certain that the King will not agree to take the adolescents to military service nor will he agree to make the service compulsory…”

 

She wanted to say her suggestion but Miklovand interrupted her rudely. “Well then he has sentence the realm to her death!” the Captain snapped. “He might as well sit on the throne and rule on a pile dust!”

 

“Well while you’re occupying my seat I cannot rule on my pile of dust; can I!?”

 

Thranduil’s cold voice startled them all as he had entered the council chamber soundlessly and in the heat of argument no one had noticed his presence or Galdor’s who had followed him inside. It was just then that the Queen realized Miklovand was sitting on the King’s chair which was a little more decorated than the others. But Leuthil was too occupied scanning Thranduil up and down and her breath hitched from seeing him after such a long time.

 

She saw no difference in him. He was tall and regal as always, painfully elegant as his dark green robes swished the stone floor, his crown of autumn leaves adorning his head. Miklovand jumped from the seat as well as the rest of the council who rose for their King and bowed their heads. Leuthil tried to catch his eyes, to see those aquamarine orbs that had made her fall in love look at her with kindness and promise of a warm embrace. But the King only had eye for Miklovand. He approached the Captain slowly as he gazed at him with sharp piercing eyes. The Sindar came to a halt inches from Miklovand and gazed down at him. If the target of that look had been the Queen, Leuthil thought she might have melted right there.

 

“You seem so eager to rule!” He hissed. “But at this rate it will take you only months to turn my forest into a military base!”

 

Miklovand said nothing while keeping his gaze down. For a few breathless moments the King gazed at him threateningly like a tiger ready to attack. But then he tilted his head indicating for the Captain to move away. Miklovand stood back and sat on the chair that was rightfully his. The King sat on his chair as well grimacing a little as pain shoot through his body. But still when Leuthil’s worried gaze found him he did not return it. After making sure Thranduil was seated alright Galdor too took his place on his right.

 

“The day that adolescents go to compulsory military service in my realm, would be the day that I no longer rule!” the King said and his firm voice rumbled in the hall like thunderstorm. He then tilted his head and looked directly at Miklovand. “So I guess you should either overthrow or kill me Miklovand!”

 

“Valar forbid…” the Captain whispered, his gaze still down.

 

Thranduil nodded, acknowledging Milovand’s remorse. He looked up then and Leuthil sensed something was off with him. He was the same but his eyes were somehow different. She could not place her finger on it but he had a faraway look in his eyes. But before she could think more about it she was pulled out of her musing when the King spoke directly to her without looking at her.

 

“My Lady I believe you were about to say something before I interrupted you…” he said formally, tilting his head a little towards her.

 

It took Leuthil a few moments to find her words and it was not before Aleth poked her a few times under the table. “Yes…” she said. “I had a suggestion regarding the matter…”

 

“We are listening…” Thranduil said still not looking at her.

 

“If we need more power in the army why don’t we train the elleths…” she said. “I’m sure there are many she-elves out there who would love to learn and fight for Greenwood.”  


The council sank in a silence that was heavy with anticipation. Eyes turned to the King expecting him to immediately reject the suggestion due to his protective nature. But the Sindar was thoughtful with his eyes fixed on the table. The look, that dull faraway look, made Leuthil uncomfortable. After a while Thranduil finally looked up.

 

“Does anyone have any comment on this?” he asked.

 

“It’s nonsense…” Miklovand was first to speak. “They don’t have half as much power than the ellons!”

 

“But they have speed…” Lady Meriloth said with an impressed face rubbing her chin. “…and with proper skills they will be great warriors, am I right Lord Alheru…”

 

“It is true…” the Lord nodded. “I have seen elleths outrank ellons with only better skills.”

 

“It is not in our culture to have she-elves fight!” Lady Malons barked. “It’s a shame! It’s dishonoring…”

 

“Cultures can change?” Daitrid shrugged.

 

“True, new traditions can replace the old…” Holgailion said then he looked at Thranduil. “Though they must be replaced with caution and care.”

 

“I believe that as well…” the King silenced the rest. He then looked up at his wife for the first time locking his eyes with hers, making her heart sink. “If this is what the she-elves want, I don’t see any obstacles.” Before Leuthil could drink his sight he had turned away towards Galdor. “Investigate on this matter. I wish to know the opinion of my subjects. I need to know roughly how many elleths wish to be trained and taken into the army. Then I will decide…”

 

Galdor nodded and wrote a note for himself. Thranduil sat back and regarded the council. “Is there anything else for today?” he asked.

 

The lords and ladies looked at each other, as if there was something they wanted to say but they feared the King’s reaction. “Tell me!” Thranduil barked losing his patience as the wait stretched.

 

“My Lord we wish that your reign would be long and your body healthy…” Lady Malons started but trailed off looking uncertain.

 

“Do not beat around the bush my Lady!” the King rolled his eyes. “Tell me!”

 

“After the recent events and the threat to your life the council wished to remind you of the necessity of an heir of your blood my lord!” the lady finally blurted out.

 

Again the heavy silence filled the chamber like dark clouds heavy with rain. Leuthil immediately turned towards the Sindar. She did not know what to expect but that cold emotionless face was not what she had anticipated.

 

“Your concern is noted…” Thranduil finally whispered in a voice that seemed to send a chill in the chamber. He then rose from his seat rather difficulty but rejected Galdor’s hand in aid. The councilors rose in his respect and they remained stood as the King walked out of the door with the Steward on his side.

 

 

The King had not gone a few paces when Leuthil almost burst out of the meeting chamber calling him. He did not slow down nor did he turn; in fact he tried to walk faster and he would have fled if his painful left leg had allowed him to. Galdor was reproaching him with his gaze but he chose to ignore it. The Queen however reached them with fast strides and with a gentle hand on his elbow she forced him to stop. His heart beat rapidly like a trapped mouse as he turned to face her. Her blue eyes found his and the urge to take her in his arms almost overwhelmed him. But the King did not move an inch as he gazed at his wife with icy eyes which was heartless concerning the fact that her eyes were pooled with worry and hope.

 

“Welcome back my lady…” he said coldly before she could start. “I take it the time in Lorien has been beneficial!”

 

Leuthil’s eyes scanned him up and down searching for any hint of injury. To Thranduil it was bitterly sarcastic that she could not see what lay beneath the image of the milky natural skin he was able to make and deceit her with. “I came to see you many times…” she finally said ignoring his formal words a hint of hurt in her voice.

 

“Yes, I was indisposed.” Thranduil said.

 

“Are you better now?!” she asked raising her eyebrows. “I am worried…”

 

“I’m much better thank you!” the King nodded and forced a crooked smile.

 

“So can I move back to our chambers…” the Queen asked hopefully.

 

“I will have you move to a better chamber if the guest chamber assigned to you is not comfortable enough!” the Sindar said flatly.

 

Leuthil’s eyebrows shoot up. This was the way for Thranduil to tell him he did not wish to share the room with her; _their_ room. “So can we at least talk?” she said sharply.

 

“Later perhaps…” Thranduil dismissed. “I have a lot of overdue tasks I’m afraid.”

 

With that he bowed his head for the Queen and turned on his heels walking away. Galdor remained behind for a few seconds. He cast a few apologizing glances at Leuthil before he too bowed his head and followed the King. In her heart the Silvan Queen felt a heaviness almost as bitter as the one she had felt when her daughter had died.

 

***

 

After returning to the stronghold nearly a week ago Glorfindel had seen little of the Queen except rapid glances and nods of the head in the corridors. But it had not chased the Silvan away out of his thoughts. While in meetings with his captains or while training the soldiers he always thought of her; wondering where she was and what she was doing. He was not upset because of her absence, he knew she had important things to do and vital matters to catch up on, but the Balrog-Slayer missed her. He had spent three months in her absolute company and it was only natural to feel this way. But more so he worried for her. The lord of the Golden Flower felt something was up and that that Leuthil had a complex problem. He did not however wish to interfere in her personal matters.

 

It was deep in the heart of autumn and a cool breeze danced between the trees. The leaves had turned into crimson and a rich shade of orange. The Balrog-Slayer knew that by now the trees of Lorien would have turned yellow creating a roof of gold above the head of her inhabitants. Training the soldiers during autumn was easier. The weather was better and right now they had the training fields to themselves. This field was also used for the annual competitions but now the benches of the audience were empty except for one.

 

Glorfindel was surprised to find that the Queen had been sitting on one of the benches alone and he had missed her, so caught up he had been with the novice soldiers. He ordered something to the ellons who were combating two by two and walked towards her. He could see her sentries standing far away, almost undistinguishable among the trees with their red cloaks. Glorfindel bowed his head slightly and she nodded back. The lord could sense her anxiety and he could see it in her features so he sat beside her. She did not protest but she also said nothing. The silence stretched between them as they watched the soldiers train.

 

“I did not think to see you here…” Glorfindel started.

 

“I used to go to the training grounds back in Amon Lanc a lot while Thranduil was at war in Mordor…” Leuthil said looking faraway as if she could see her long lost memories there. “It reminded me of him since it was where I fell in love with him.”

Glorfindel said nothing and watched as the Queen looked up with her blue eyes. “I think I might have made a mistake by going to Lorien…”

 

Glorfindel inhaled deeply. “You needed some time away and you are significantly better now…” he said. “The things that happened in your absence were out of your hands…”

 

“Thranduil doesn’t let me in the chamber, he avoids talking to me, he doesn’t even look at me…” Leuthil shook her head fisting her garment. “I think there’s something more to it…”

 

Glorfindel did not know what to say. He wanted so much to sooth her and make things alright but he was distant from all the happenings of the royal family. But the Lord couldn’t help the anger that surged through him from hearing the hurt in Leuthil’s voice. He wanted to find Thranduil and punch him in the face for upsetting the Queen. He wished he could just snatch her and take her away with him to Imladris. However just as he turned to say something consoling, Glorfindel saw the Captain of the guard approaching them. Seeing the expression on his face Leuthil turned and followed his gaze thus she too saw Miklovand. They rose to their feet and waited for the dark haired elf to reach them.

 

Miklovand bowed his head for the Queen and nodded his acknowledgement to Glorfindel.

“The King has summoned you my Lady…” he said eyeing the lord skeptically.

 

Leuthil’s heart started pounding against her chest. Excitement filled her. After a week of neglect and sulking perhaps Thranduil was ready to forgive her and be done with it. They could go back to normal and build their lives again. She threw an apologetic glance at Glorfindel which he dismissed with a nod and then she marched towards the gates, Miklovand following.

 

Just as they got out of earshot, the Captain matched his pace with her and started talking. “You seem quiet intimate with the Noldor…” he said.

 

“If you had half of that observant look for the boarders, Greenwood would have been a safer place…” Leuthil shot back her strides becoming more forceful than necessary.

 

“I don’t blame you…” Miklovand shrugged ignoring the Queen’s comment. “It’s just fair to look for someone else when your husband has turned to such a hideous monster…”

 

Leuthil abruptly came to a halt. She turned to curse the elf and shoo him away but slowly his words sank in her mind and for a few moments she could not register what he had said. “What does that supposed to mean?” she snarled.

 

Miklovand stood in front of her, hands on his hips and putting his weight on one booted foot casually. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the elleth in front of him. “You don’t know do you?” he finally smirked. “He has fooled you with that show as well…” he snickered. “I must say I’m disappointed. I thought you were closer than this.”

 

“Know what Miklovand?!” The Queen gritted her teeth.

 

“His pretty face is just some magic the Imladiran Lord provided him with…” the Captain said heartlessly. “His left side was ruined in the battlecompletely…there’s nothing left of his pretty face anymore.”

 

Leuthil’s heart dropped in her chest and suddenly breathing was labor. “You lie!” she accused.

 

“Ask him to show you…” Miklovand shrugged. “He’s burned, broken and blind…”

 

Leuthil no longer heard what the Captain was saying, or not saying since he had closed that conspiratorial mouth of his. She started running, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Even the taunting looks of the spectators did not sway her to walk slower. The way from the courtyard to Thranduil’s study seemed much longer than normal. And when she finally reached the door it was as if years had passed. Thranduil never had anyone guard his study or bedchambers however Erhan was standing guard at the door as if Thranduil feared unwanted intruders. Seeing the Queen approach he immediately allowed her entrance. “The King is expecting you my Lady…” he murmured.

 

She walked inside holding a burning breath her heart beating somewhere in her throat. Nothing seemed abnormal in the study. In fact everything was disturbingly normal and somehow it alarmed Leuthil even more. Thranduil was sitting at his desk head down and concentrated on a document. Hearing the door he raised his head. The tired afternoon light illuminated his face and the Queen searched for any hint of injury of deformity but found none except that faraway look she had noted days earlier. He gazed at her for a while and Leuthil thought that she saw a flash of longing in his eyes but it was soon replaced by bitterness and chill and the Queen doubted seeing it at all in the first place.

 

“My Lady…” he greeted coldly motioning for the chair in front of the desk. “Please sit down.”

 

Leuthil obeyed. She walked the length of the room and sat on the chair that still smelled of new carved wood. It was after all new furniture, made after Thranduil burned everything he possessed. How he must have felt to let go of everything, Leuthil thought. The Queen watched as the Sindar placed the parchment aside on a pile of papers and locked his fingers together on the desk. His gaze darted from one thing to another never looking at her directly. He seemed to be struggling with his words and it reminded Leuthil of the young prince she had met a thousand years ago in the music class.

 

“I have meant to talk to you sooner…” the King finally said, looking down at his hands. “But what I wanted to tell you needed some introductions that I needed to study.”

 

He fell silent again. Leuthil did not say anything either, waiting patiently for him to talk just as she had learned from Queen Harma. Thranduil finally looked up and their eyes met, icy aquamarine and rich blue. The Sindar took a deep breath.

“I wish to annul our marriage…” he finally said.

 

At first Leuthil did not feel the meaning of what she had heard. It was as if her mind was not responding. Then slowly the weight of Thranduil’s words sank in and the Queen felt dizzy like she had been poisoned with a strong toxin. “Why?” She jumped up as if the chair had stung her. “Is this because I left?”

 

“No!” Thranduil replied immediately. “I hold no grudge against you because of that.”

 

“Then why?!” the Queen asked desperately.

 

“I have my reasons…” Thranduil said casually throwing one shoulder up.

 

“And do you not assumed that you should share these reasons of yours with me?” Leuthil snarled. “I am after all a side of this bond.”

 

“This will benefit all Leuthil…” he said as he too stood up and circled the desk to stand in front of her.

 

The Queen gazed at her husband for a while. She could not believe the situation they were stuck in but she knew Thranduil well enough to know he was hiding something. He had built a high wall around himself and there was no way to breach it. So she tried something else.

 

“It’s not even possible…” she smirked bitterly.

 

“It’s unconventional but not unheard of…” Thranduil corrected, he had seemingly done his research. “In special cases there has been divorce among our kin.”

 

“And what specialty does our case have?” the Silvan asked sarcastically, her voice shaking.

 

Thranduil opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and closed it sighing instead fisting his hair frustrated.  

 

 “You’ve changed…” the Queen said after a while. “When did we start keeping secrets from each other?”

 

“I’m keeping no secret…” Thranduil tensed.

 

“You are…” Leuthil snapped. “I know you…I can see that you’re hiding something and it’s eating at you…but your damn pride doesn’t let you open up…your pride has always been more important.”

 

“It’s not about my pride!” the King lost his patience and yelled.

 

“Then you’re just a coward!” Leuthil shot back.

 

“I’m doing this for you!” Thranduil said desperately his voice shaking from frustration.

 

“Well then don’t tire yourself, because I’m not accepting this and you cannot annul our marriage without my consent!” the Queen said and turned to leave but before she could take a step the Sindar grabbed her elbow and twisted her around so that she would face him.

 

Her eyes widened and she could not suppress a gasp when she saw his face torn and burned, the eye that was clouded and seemingly blind and the muscles that were revealed. She was not disgusted. In fact revulsion was not among the hoard of feelings that stampeded through her. Her stomach twisted thinking in what a pain Thranduil had been and probably was right now. Her heart ached to know he had been alone with that agony all this time with only healers to keep him company. Guilt surged through her as she thought how he has festered his mental wounds in solitude drowning in self-pity without her to assure him, to take his hand and pull him out of that deadly pool of self-loathing. She longed to take him in her arms end sooth him, to touch those wounds and make sure they no longer hurt, to kiss the pain away. But when she moved forward he sprang back like a frightened stag and hit his back on the desk.

 

“Don’t touch me…” he snarled in panic. “Don’t pity me!”

 

The wounds slowly faded and soft pale skin replaced them. The milky color of his left eye was also replace by the aquamarine orb Leuthil had always known and everything was back to normal as if nothing ever happened. The only thing that showed the fact that a terrible secret had been revealed seconds ago was how Thranduil breathed heavily like wild dogs had been chasing him. His chest heaved and his eyes were full of tears his pride did not allow him to shed.

 

“I will send you the documents…” he whispered. “Now leave…”

 

“Thranduil…”

 

“LEAVE…”

 

Leuthil wished to stay, to talk and if not talk, only hold him. But she thought better of it. In that state of anger and helplessness she could not reach out to him. He was lost in the dark and could not see her hands stretched to find him. The Queen also needed some time to sort her own thoughts and feelings out as they were a jumble in her mind and heart. She needed to find a proper way to approach her distancing beloved. So with another glance at her husband she left. All she thought at that moment was how beautiful he was in the afternoon light.  

 

 

 

 


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of the last chapter so I'm sorry if it's a bit short. Enjoy :)

It was deep into the night but the King was still working. However he was not working in his study. Since he and Leuthil no longer shared their bedroom the state of neither the royal bed chambers nor his study was as it should be. Galion often was forced to gather blankets and pillows from the study and it was a normal occurrence that the bed he slept in would be covered with papers and scrolls. This was exactly the same state at that moment. He was sitting in his bed over the bed covers with his long legs crossed and his back on the headboard; but he couldn’t see his legs as they were covered under parchments and documents. The bed covers were also not visible under the papers and where they were visible they were stained with ink.

 

Studying these documents brought him great pain. From the moment he had been made to learn reading and writing he hated history and politics the most. He would have never imagined that he would be forced to go over centuries of elven laws and history to find evidences of marriage annulment or divorce which were literary rare cases among his kin. The process had been a painful one. Thranduil had chosen not to think about what he was doing because if for one second he acknowledged it he would go mad.

 

There was a faint knock on the door and he bid the person enter wondering who might have anything to do with him at that time of night. Galdor slipped inside and shut the door behind him. Seeing the Steward the King gave a nod and went back to folding the parchments he had in his hand.

 

“You should be resting…” Galdor said as he approached the bed.

 

To that Thranduil only smirked as he tried to melt the wax on the candle and pour it on the parchments clumsily, ruining the bed sheets further by pouring wax on them. It took him a few frantic seconds of searching through the parchments scattered on the bed to find his signet and seal the documents he was working on.

 

“Of course you could not have slept even if you wanted to!” Galdor commented pointing at the papers covering the bed. “Admit it Thranduil you’re a lost cause without your wife!”

 

“Stop it Galdor!” Thranduil snapped, looking up at the Steward sharply.

 

“No you stop it!” the Silvan said just as harshly and pushed a pile of papers off the bed to sit down. “That elleth loves you, she returned for you. Leuthil will not back away from your marriage because of a few scars. She loves you more than that.”

 

“She’s just an emotional elleth that thinks she can do things bigger than her.” Thranduil said coarsely. “These are not a few scares but serious disfigurements. I will not force her to live with that.”

 

“She has survived losing her child…” Galdor said slowly yet firmly as if it would instill the words in Thranduil’s brain. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for. You should must stop being such a patriarch tyrant and let her decide what she wants.”

 

Thranduil opened his mouth to argue but closed it again glaring at his friend as he huffed out an angry breath. “You don’t understand!” he finally decided.

 

“In fact I understand better than most, because I know you better than anyone.” Galdor reminded. “You’re just the same selfish prince you used to be. Pity that thousands of years has not changed you the slightest.”

 

Thranduil was taken aback. He wanted to say something really cruel to the Steward but he didn’t want to upset him. Galdor was the only one he had left. So the King just pressed his teeth together as if it would send the harsh words back. He threw the sealed parchments in the Steward’s chest making sure to put his anger in his movements at least. “Give these to the Queen in the morning.”

 

Knowing what the documents were Galdor looked up at him disappointedly. “As you wish my King!” he said, a bitter sarcasm lingering on his tone.

 

He rose from the bed and turned to live. Unsaid words were burning Thranduil’s throat. The Stewards cruel talk had hurt him. So just as the Silvan turned to leave Thranduil argued again. “I’m not selfish…” he said. “I’m doing this for her, because she deserves better.”

 

Galdor turned towards him. He smirked as if he was hearing stupid lies of an elfling.

“You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing it for yourself…” he shook his head. “Because if you let her accept you as you’ve become, you will be under her debt forever. And you’re too prideful to accept that!”

 

With that the Steward gave him a sarcastic bow and left. Thranduil growled his frustration not caring or daring to even think about what that stupid Silvan had said. He just slid down deeper under the parchments and closed his eyes hoping for sleep to claim him.

 

 

***

 

The autumn festival was the best opportunity for Leuthil to distract herself and the Queen intended to take the most advantage of it. She walked around the halls, managing the maids and servants, organizing the festive and pretending that nothing had happened between her and Thranduil. Her down mood did not go unnoticed but most chose not to comment on it. Her father however was not among that group. He sought her out whenever he found time and tried to give her consolation and confidence as much as he could.

 

Alheru was annoyed by the way the King treated his daughter. Never before had he been worried of their marriage but now the father was truly concerned about it. On the other hand the Lord understood Thranduil. He had seen the scars and he had seen how broken the Sindar was. His odd decisions and mood swings could be easily excused. Alheru however was worried that his son in law would take reckless actions that would ruin Leuthil’s and his own life. When his daughter had informed him of the marriage annulment the King had proposed his fears had turned to reality. But the lord was certain that Thranduil would find no way for divorce since it was rare and unheard of.

 

Between training the novice soldiers and attending the council meetings Alheru again went down to the kitchens to find his daughter. As he had thought he found her there among the cooks and maids, overseeing the preparations of the autumn festival. She raised her head and smiled when she saw him but the smile did not reach her eyes. The servants went about their works to give them some space.

 

“Father…” she kissed his cheek like she used to when she was an elfling.   


“How are you my dear?” Alheru asked.

 

Leuthil shrugged. “Like I’m on the edge of a knife and I might just fall any second…”

 

“Do not worry…” Alheru said. “I don’t think Thranduil is serious about this annulment. It’s extremely unconventional and rare…he will not take such a risk.”

 

The sound of the kitchen doors opening and closing reached them and a moment later Liadan, the Queen’s maid, approached them. She curtsied to the father and daughter before stretching her arm and handing a piece of sealed parchment to the Queen. Leuthil immediately recognized the King’s sign on the wax. 

 

“Lord Galdor asked me to give this to you my lady…” Liadan explained.

 

The Queen nodded and dismissed the maid with a wave of her hand. The elleth walked away as Leuthil broke the seal under her father’s curious and worried gaze. The parchment had many folds. The Queen’s eyes ran right and left as she read the first lines and her expression changed as she handed the parchment to her father.

 

Alheru did not need to read more than a few lines to understand that these were the terms and conditions of marriage annulment Thranduil had arranged with great care. And at the bottom of the page his curved signature rested impudently. He looked up at Leuthil not knowing what to say.

 

“I guess he was serious after all!” she sighed as she passed him and walked out of the kitchen.

 

***

 

The autumn festival was one of the most joyous feasts of the Woodland. It was held outdoors since it was warm for that time of the year. Music floated in the air and the merry elves danced through the night as the food was served abundantly and the Elvenking’s fine wine flowed like river.

 

Two however were as grumpy as one could be. The King and Queen sat together yet no ghost of a smile passed between them through the night. Thranduil mostly conversed with Elrond who was sitting on his left. The Lord wished to inform him of his departure in a few days and since he wished to take his troops with him they had a lot to discuss giving the King the opportunity to ignore his sulking Queen. Leuthil was so deep in thought that she didn’t even talk to Aleth who was sitting on her left. She glanced at her husband from time to time and noted that the cold seemed to pain Thranduil’s face since he placed his palm on his left cheek and groaned quietly a few times.

 

“I expect those documents to be signed by tomorrow…” the King whispered to Leuthil without looking at her.

 

“Then you should lower your expectations…!” she answered quietly.

 

To that Thranduil glared at her for a few seconds. He then sighed and shook his head turning towards Elrond who was engaged in a conversation with Holgailion over how to remove his troops from the forest.  

 

“If you would excuse me my Lord…I would like to retire…” Thranduil finally said and rose from his seat.

 

The King slipped inside the palace quietly so as not to be noticed by the guests. Elrond also excused himself after a while. Leuthil watched the elves dance as if it was the last night of their lives. She couldn’t stand their happiness so she too stood and walked away from the feast to a more secluded area.

 

The garden she walked to, was located beneath the windows of the royal chambers so that when one stood in the balcony of the King’s room he could see the trees and the flowers there. For a while the Queen walked alone in the walkway between the trees until she heard the sound of giggles that took her attention. She had assumed to be alone in that part of the gardens but instead she noted a couple behind the trees on the other side. The boy and girl were clearly drunk and had no clear assumption that they were roaming around the Elvenking’s garden as they chased each other from tree to tree. Leuthil watched them for a while, her mind going back to when Thranduil was courting her centuries ago. They had never been this care free. The duties always made them more responsible and before they knew war had separated them and then years of royal burden had bent their spines. Still the Queen did not regret anything. If they would take her back in time she would make the same decisions again. She would fall in love with Thranduil again with all his flaws and imperfections.

 

“Do you wish to be like them?”

 

Glorfindel had come to stand behind her at some point gazing at the drunk couple who were now hidden behind the trunk of a weeping willow. The Queen had gotten used to the Balrog Slayer happening upon her like a stalker in the night. To the lord’s question Leuthil shrugged still having her back towards him.

 

“I can give you that life…” she heard him say.

 

The Queen turned towards Glorfindel. At first she thought that she had misheard but then she saw the lord’s serious expression. “Excuse me?” she asked.

 

“I heard that the king wants to annul your marriage…” Glorfindel explained.

 

“I’m not going to accept it…” Leuthil said firmly seeking to end this conversation.

 

“Perhaps it’s a good thing…” the Lord said. “You will be free…”

 

Leuthil opened her mouth to say something sharp but her tongue was paralyzed when Glorfindel took her hands in his and looked into her eyes almost desperately. “Come with me to Imladris…” he suggested hopefully. “I will make you a home in the valley, you would live there in peace, away from this dark and foul forest and its dangers…”

 

“Glorfindel please stop it!” the Queen demanded pulling her hands out of his but the Balrong Slayer had no head to let go.

 

“You deserve better than this…we will leave in a few days…” he said desperately. “I will make you forget the hardship you’ve endures, I will make you fall in love with me…”

 

“That’s enough Glorfidnel!!!” Leuthil snapped sharply.

 

She turned to leave; to walk away before this went out of control but Glorfindel grabbed her arm in his powerful grip and turned her towards him, capturing her lips with his in a sealing kiss.

For a few moments the Queen was in shock. What brought her out of that trance was the alienation of those lips. She realized then what she had known all this time, that still she only knew one smell and that was Thranduil’s. She placed her hands on the lord’s chest and with all the power she had the Queen pushed him away and before Glorfindel could gather himself she slapped the Balrog Slayer on his cheek.

 

It took the lord a few seconds to register that he had just received strike from Leuthil and look up with wide blue eyes at her. The Queen opened her mouth to say something; a curse or a threat but the sound of shuffling from above snapped them out of their violent interaction.

To Leuthil’s horror, Thranduil was standing on the balcony of his room and he had watched all that happened from above there. When their eyes met he only turned and disappeared inside.

Glorfindel saw that too and when the Queen’s eyes met his he did not know what to say. They both breathed hard. The Lord did not regret what he had done but he knew the Queen did. It was clear from her eyes and from her set jaw.

 

“This dark, foul forest is my home…Thranduil is my home.” She said in a dangerously calm tone. “You better fix that in your mind Balrog Slayer…”

 

With that she turned and ran towards the palace in hopes of saving her marriage.

 

***

 

Thranduil had heard about mortal men that sometimes died from their heart suddenly deciding to stop beating. He had not however ever thought that this might occur to his own immortal body. But at that moment, when he saw the Noldor kiss his wife it seemed that his mind and body both stopped functioning for a few moments. His ears buzzed and his vision blurred, his head swung and his skin burned. When he finally could gain back the control of his limps he stumbled back towards his room running into the walls and doors like a drunken man as he tried to run away from that scene.

 

When he finally carried his heavy body inside the chamber a great unbearable pain flashed inside his chest and he gripped his tunic above where his heart was. He could not breathe, like some enemy was strangling him. Cold sweat ran down his back and the pain inside his chest became unbearable. Shallow gasps was all that broke its way out of his dries throat.

 

Anger, frustration, betrayal and love had started a battle inside him and helplessness did not allow anyone of them to defeat the others. The scene of that Noldor kissing Leuthil repeated in his mind over and over again and it settled such a despair in him that the King thought that he might in fact die at that very second. It was only the anger and the extreme love for her that kept him from fading. He had  even thought of reconsidering the divorce that night but all of that seemed sarcastic now. Amidst the flood of overwhelming feelings Thranduil had lost the control over the illusion on his face and seeing his own reflection in the mirror Galion had fixed only a day ago he was reminded of how pathetic he was to think that Leuthil might actually want to stay with him. He was lucky if she would even spare him a glance and it was no wonder she had already sought another. What did he have to offer comparing to the great Balrog Slayer? He was handsome and glorious while all the Elvenking had was a monstrous face and a heart weighed by sorrows. Yet still that heart felt and that heart loved and it could still feel jealous, it could still feel possessive of the elleth he loved even though it had only pain and agony inside.

 

Thranduil could no longer endure. He wished that he would just die and he was furious with himself for staying, for _always_ surviving. He grabbed the sides of the small table on which they placed the bottles of wine and threw it to the mirror. The bottles hit the floor first and broke and when the table hit the mirror it crashed with a deafening noise that mixed with the Elvenking’s mad screams. Galion would again fix the mirror, he knew how hopeless and useless Thranduil was. He attacked the armchairs then, throwing them to the opposite wall and then breaking them to pieces of wood with his booted feet as he screamed and screamed fisting his fingers in his long golden locks and pulling. The sound of the mirror breaking had been enough for Erhan to peek inside the room and then run for help.

Thranduil had just thrown the side table to the glassmade balcony doors and broken it when Galdor and Elrond dashed into the room. Without exchanging a single word the Lords ran to him and grabbed him, mindful of his arms that were covered in his own blood since he had impaled himself on the pieces of glass that were everywhere. Thranduil struggled against their hold, screaming and kicking hysterically but the two who did not even know why he had lost control again were more powerful than him. he wished that they would just leave him to do what he wanted, he wished that they would let him him die. Even with their forces combined Erhan ran to their aid when Galdor shouted for him above the King’s cries and screams. The two tackled him to the ground as Elrond produced a small piece of white linen out of nowhere. Thranduil trashed and twisted in their hold but Erhan had his arms pinned and Galdor was almost sitting on his chest holding the sides of his head to stop him from banging his skull on the stone floor. The Steward repeatedly called his name and tried to say soothing nonsense to him that he could not hear over his own trashing and screaming.

 

In the months after the disaster with the dragon Thranduil had been dozed with chloroform enough to know its smell when the Peredhel leaned above him with that piece of linen. He tried to turn his head away. He didn’t want to be dozed and made unconscious, but Elrond was fast as he held Thranduil’s jaw in his strong hand and placed the cloth on his nose and mouth. Thranduil tried holding his breath but eventually he needed air. Elrond allowed the Sindar to just take one breath, enough to numb him but not knock him out. His screams were silenced at once as his aquamarine eyes lost the fire and gazed at the ceiling numbly; his limbs rested immobile beside him. Hesitantly the sentry and Galdor let go of him and the King lay there on the floor broken and wasted, hair splayed around his head like a golden halo of a burned angel. As he lay there immobile and broken, Thranduil realized that his left eye, useless as it was could still shed a single tear.

 


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay...this is the second part of the half. Enjoy and let me know if you liked it. :)

There was a small lake close to the training grounds near the Elvenking’s stronghold. After the training hours the soldiers often took off their sweaty tunics and ran for a bath in the clear lake. That day however they had been shooed away by a very furious Balrog Slayer. While they did not know the reason behind the Lord’s anger they knew better to linger and they had evacuated the bank immediately. 

 

Once alone Glorfindel kicked a rock with his booted feet. Although the rock fell into the water as he had intended but it didn’t do anything to sooth the Lord’s annoyance but only caused him pain in his toes atop the pain in his heart. He sat on a huge rock near the bank and looked at his reflection in the water.

 

He was handsome. During his long life many, girl and boy, had tried to woo him. But he had never caught the eye of the one he wanted. He always made a mistake or chose people he could not have. He was thousands of years old, he had experienced death and not even Mandos could defeat him. But in affairs of the heart he was more stupid than an elfling and now he had destroyed everything. His own relationship with Leuthil and probably the friendship between Elrond and the Evenking as well.

 

From behind him the Lord of the Golden Flower heard someone approach and by instinct he knew who he was. So he did not even turn when Elrond walked to him and without a word sat beside him on the massive rock. For a long while the two were silent and only the sound of the small stones Glorfindel threw into the water disturbed the tranquility.

 

“I see you managed to actually ruin everything!” Elrond finally said emotionlessly.

 

“Let me guess!” said Glorfindel, rolling his eyes. “The Elvenking has canceled all the trade arrangements and all the treaties we had. He may have also declared war!”

 

To the Balrog Slayer’s surprise the Peredhel chuckled. “Although after what you did I would have thought he would do just that, Thranduil was gracious enough not to even mention a word to me about your little encounter.”

 

Relief washed over Glorfindel though he would never admit it. He was very worried that his stupid, emotion driven actions might cause horrible circumstances between the alliances Elrond had worked so much for. The temper and possessiveness that Thranduil was famous for did not help either. After all the Balrod Slayer remembered how long ago the Prince had beaten three of his soldiers for just teasing his girl which at the time was not even his betrothed. Glorfindel had come to terms with himself and he was ready to do anything to make the wrongs right for the sake of Elrond. But he was a prideful ellon just like Thranduil and was relieved to hear he need not go to extreme terms.

 

“However…” Elrond continued. “Since you act like a complete fool and not an ounce like the ancient creature you are when the matters of heart are at hand, I have no choice but to take the matters in my own hands.”

 

Glorfindel turned towards Elrond and waited for the Lord to continue controlling his annoyance.

“As we’ve arranged with Thranduil, I will take the Imladrian troops back home tomorrow…” the Peredhel said as he turned to gaze at Glorfindel with his grey eyes. “And you are coming with us my friend…”

 

The Balrog Slayer felt like a child being ordered around. But perhaps he deserved it. He had done a foolish thing and had been lucky enough to get away with it. She loved the Woodland Queen still but he now knew she truly belonged to another and that her heart lay elsewhere. He only wanted what was best for her and in his obsession he had made mistakes. Elrond had every right not to trust him when it came to the Woodland realm.

 

“As you wish my lord…” he whispered, dropping his gaze.

 

Elrond nodded and placed his hand on his friends shoulder using it to rise from the rock. There was a reassurance in his touch that warmed the Balrog Slayer’s heart. For a moment Glorfindel wanted nothing but to go back home. As the Peredhel turned and walked away a Silvan soldier approached.

 

“My Lord…” he bowed his head. “The Queen would like to have a word with you…”

 

***

 

Thranduil felt like a panther wasted on a branch in the heat of summer. He felt strength surge in his muscles; a power he had never felt before. The abilities he used to have all his life seemed to have heightened as he could feel every inch of the forest inside him with painful clarity. He could feel every movement of every leaf with the slightest breeze. He could feel the smoothness of the water as the river crawled over each rock and every path. When he closed his eyes he could tell every hushed whisper of the trees as they chattered silently. It did not bother him but he had to confess he was scared. The relation with the forest that had been a dull ache in his youth was now crystal clear like the pulse on his neck. Elrond had told him there would be consequences to the magic of the Vilya and here it was. Thranduil did not know whether it was a curse or a blessing. He felt he could do anything; he was the forest. He felt he could turn into a wild beast and roam the woods. But at the moment his mind was too occupied with the civilized matters in his stronghold. He felt like a stag with his antlers stuck in branches. The King wished so much to just turn to the said stag, run away and hide somewhere in the forest. But he had a realm to manage, a wife to torment and love and scars to mourn over; and since he had the energy to do none, Thranduil merely rumbled on his favorite armchair and hid from the world. He wouldn’t attend the council, he wouldn’t talk to Leuthil and most importantly he wouldn’t just go out to the training fields, rearrange the Balrog Slayers face and gain back his dignity. No, the Elvenking had decided to just stay in his coach and wait until the Valar would take pity on him and allow him passage to death.

 

It was at the height of his self-pity that the door was knocked and Elrond entered without his permission. He had a rather huge basket in his hand carrying something that was covered with a piece of linen.

 

“I went to your study they said you were here…” the Peredhel smiled as he placed the basket on the table and sat on the armchair opposite the King with a familiarity Thranduil liked. “I came to see how you are doing?”

 

“I’m fine…” Thranduil lied before changing the subject. “Are you getting all the help you need for moving out?” after three days of his nervous breakdown still he was not ready to talk about it.

 

“Oh yes…” Elrond said. “Lord Daitrid and Lord Alheru have been very helpful. And of course Lord Galdor does anything he can as always…” the Peredhel smiled. “He’s truly a great friend for you…”

 

“I’m a lost cause without him!” Thranduil chuckled, but then a look of sadness settled on his features. “I’m sorry that you’re leaving…I fear I’ll be lonely without you here. Though I suppose you long to go back home, your time here has been far from enjoyable.”

 

“I’m a healer Thranduil…wherever I can be of help is enjoyable for me.” The Peredhel said kindly. “Besides, I had come here for war not leisure…” Elrond’s expression then became more serious. “I am however worried about what you are doing with your marriage…”

 

Thranduil turned his head away so that he wouldn’t be forced to look at the healer in the eye. “You know why I’m doing this Elrond…” he said. “No one deserves to live with this ugliness. Leuthil least of all.”

 

Elrond sat back in his chair and regarded Thranduil with a look that reminded him of his father when he would take a few extra cups of wine. “Let me tell you something Thranduil…” he said. “Elleths are stronger than we think. We call ourselves glorious ellons while all of us came out of their wombs and grew under their love…they stay behind and watch their fathers, brothers or sons go to war and that is more easily said than done.” The Peredhel continued. A faraway look settled in his eyes as if he was seeing his own departed wife. “Lady Leuthil loves you Thranduil…When war took you she waited for you while she had no obligation to. She waited while she knew you might return with no hands, no legs or no eyes or you might not return at all. This love is not something to be forgotten with these scars.”

 

Thranduil was silent. Only Valar knew how much he wanted to just go back to normal, to possessively cling to the elleth he loved and never let go. He felt the powerful yet tender hand of the Peredhel on his knee as Elrond leaned to look him in the eye. The healer’s expression was grave and it awoke a sense of alarm in the King. “A hard future lays before both of you. I see a never ending love but also a great distance and long separation…” Elrond said. “I suggest that you postpone it while you can…”

 

Thranduil felt the hair on the back of his neck stand and a cold shiver ran down his spine. “You know of the future…” he whispered. “Tell me what is to come…”

 

“You and I both know…” Elrond said. “This watchful peace would be put to test. But not now. For now it is of most importance for us to enjoy our lives.” He smiled as he rose to his feet.

 

The air seemed lighter but Thranduil was still weighed down by the Peredhel’s words. Suddenly the prospect of losing Leuthil became more frightening for him. However before he could sink deeper in his brooding Elrond’s voice snapped him back to reality.

 

“Oh I was almost forgetting…” he said joyfully, all the tension forgotten as he picked the basket and placed it on Thranduil’s lap gently. “This is for you.”

 

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and looked at the Peredhel skeptically. Elrond encouraged him with a nod and the king pulled away the cloth and uncovered the creature sleeping underneath in the basket. Thranduil’s jaw dropped in surprise and his eyes grew wide.

 

“We found this baby deer in the woods…” Elrond chuckled at Thranduil’s stunned face. “His mother is dead. I think you should keep him.”

 

“This is not a baby deer Elrond!” Thranduil said exasperated, his face losing all color. “It’s a baby _elk_!!!”

 

“See! I don’t even know the species…” the Peredhel shrugged a she headed for the door. “All the more reasons you should be the one to look after him.”

 

“No you’re not going to leave me with this!” Thranduil argued. “Where will I keep him it will grow 7 feet high!”

 

“You’re the Elvenking…” Elrond said already out of the door. “You own a forest!”

 

Thranduil’s next frustrated protest was silenced in his throat as the door was shut behind the Peredhel. The noise seemly woke the baby elk up. As Thranduil watched in great horror two black beautiful eyes opened and looked up at him with an innocent sleepy gaze. Thranduil was petrified as the baby elk rose his head and stretched his long neck to smell him and then tried to get over the King’s lap kicking the basket away like it had insulted him. The elk gathered his rather long limps on Thranduil’s lap and made himself comfortable there. Then he started licking the King’s chin. Thranduil could not help but smile at this.

 

***

 

Leuthil’s mind and heart was a mess. If one would look at her from the outside he would see a queen in a dark blue dress and an elegant tiara on her head to go with it standing in front of a huge beautiful window, gazing out to the most spectacular landscape. One would think she was the happiest and the most powerful elleth in Greenwood. But no one could tell how her heart twisted as she remembered the events of two nights ago, when she had barged in the royal chamber as Thranduil was wrestled to the ground like the wild horses men hunted to tame. Defeat echoed from his form as his once young and powerful body was pinned to the floor and his sharp senses drugged to oblivion. She had seen it all and the scene did not leave her for a second. Guilt was killing her. She had never gave the Balrog Slayer hope, or at least she had tried not to. But Glorfindel had thought to sway her none the less and it made her feel guilty for not being more clear and serious about the fact that her only love was Thranduil and would always remain Thranduil. Now her life was on the edge of a knife as was her husband’s and while she was supposed to support him, she had made it all worst. But she was a different person from who she was before going to Lorien. If Glorfindel had taught her one lesson as a friend it was to take the matters into her own hands and change her fate if she could. The Queen intended to do just that.

 

The door of the sewing workshop was knocked and the Balrog Slayer walked inside the empty room. He stood in the middle of the chamber, not coming too close to Leuthil as if he feared stepping into her personal space. He kept his gaze down as the Queen turned towards him and for some time neither of them said a word.

 

“I am sorry…” the Balrog Slayer finally said. “I did not see…”

 

“I know…” Leuthil said making Glorfindel look up at her.

 

“I only wished for you to be happy…” he said.

 

“I know you did…and you are a great friend” the Queen said. “But I love him, and only him…”

 

There was a look of hurt on Glorfindel’s face. “I can see that now…” he said bitterly. “He’s lucky!”

 

“Perhaps if you look for love elsewhere you would be lucky too…” Leuthil suggested.

 

“I will!” The Balrod Slayer smirked. Then his expression became serious again. “We’re leaving tomorrow…”

 

“It’s better for all of us…” Leuthil commented.

 

“I believe so…” Glorfindel nodded. “I guess this is a goodbye then…”

 

“I guess it is…” the Queen said softly.

 

The Balrog Slayer approached her slowly and took her hand in his. He brought her hand to his lips and planted a formal kiss there. “Farewell Lady Leuthil…Queen of the Great Greenwood!” he said.

 

“Goodbye my Lord Glorfindel…Legend of all time.” she smiled. She then walked past him and went out of the chamber never looking back. Deep inside she wished for him to find peace and the love he deserved.

 

***

 

Leuthil knocked on the door and waited. The time between the knock and the permission for her to go in was not even a second but it seemed like long years for her and was a test of patience for her. She stepped into the familiar chamber she had learned to call theirs; the shelter she and Thranduil refuged to when they wanted to hide from their stressful life.

 

Thranduil was sitting on the ledge below the window, his long legs not reaching the floor. The setting sun behind him made his hair shimmer like gold. To Leuthil’s surprise he had a baby deer, or a baby elk, on his lap feeding the animal from a ceramic funnel used for feeding milk to babies. The scene warmed her heart. He looked so serene. The deep line between his eyebrows was somehow smoothed and he had a light smile on his lips as he watched the baby elk suck the milk from the funnel which was a noisy and messy affair. Leuthil’s heart twisted as she remembered Elrond’s words. He had told her that Thranduil might fade. That although his body was somewhat healed; his faer was still bleeding. Even the thought of losing him terrified the Queen.

 

When Thranduil looked up at her his face lost all emotion. However Leuthil was still thankful for she had expected disgust or wrath in his eyes but found none. In fact the King looked at her with a rather calm expression. They regarded each other for a while, neither of them speaking.

 

“That’s a baby elk!” the Queen finally said. It was not a question but stating the fact that it was not normal to see the Elvenking feeding an elk on his lap.

 

“Elrond seems to think they are good pets!” Thranduil chuckled which was when Leuthil realized it had been so long since she had seen him smile or laugh.

 

“So you’re going to keep him?” she asked feeling strange to have such a smooth conversation with Thranduil when not two days ago the King had almost destroyed this very room and himself over Glorfindel kissing her. His hands and forearms were still bandaged since he had cut himself with the glasses he had broken that night.

 

“His mother is probably dead…I can’t just leave him alone in the forest. Beside he seems like an agreeable friend. Probably the only creature that can tolerate me right now.” Thranduil shrugged as he placed the empty bottle aside and wiped the animal’s mouth affectionately. The baby elk tried to climb up Thranduil’s torso as he licked his hands in some gesture of gratitude making both the husband and wife chuckle softly. Again it felt really odd to act as if nothing had happened between them. It felt nice to be like they were before but the reminder of the fact that this was just a civilized surface Thranduil was showing and it was only the calm before the storm scared the Queen.

 

“May I sit with you…” she finally asked as Thranduil placed the baby elk on the floor.

 

He nodded not looking at Leuthil as she pulled herself up and sat in front of him on the ledge but rather watching his new pet roam around the huge chamber curiously, munching on the carpet. The silence stretched between them and at last Thranduil could no longer avoid the intense gaze of his wife and had to look back at her.

 

“Are you feeling better?” she asked, her voice tender.

 

“I’m trying…” Thranduil whispered leaning his head on the cool window. His gaze went faraway to the sky that had turned dark. 

 

Leuthil too looked out of the window. The stars winked at them and Mars was strangely bright that night. “This is _your_ battle…and whoever says you are not alone is a liar.” She said, she looked back at him then. “But they are people here who love you and want you to win this fight…including me.”

 

Her last words were added hesitantly as if she was afraid of his reaction. His gaze turned from the stars and found her eyes. She saw exhaustion there and desperation and many unsaid emotions. His façade was still cold and distant but his eyes spoke volumes. This encouraged her to finally say what she had come here to say.

 

“I never betrayed you Thranduil…” she choked on the lump suddenly growing in her throat.

 

Thranduil watched her for a while. Her tears ran down her cheeks freely and without more words she begged him to believe her.

“I know…” he finally whispered.

Relief washed over her and still she could not stop the tears. She was so welled up and tired.

 

“…but I wished you had.” She heard Thranduil say, his voice choked as well. When Leuthil looked up, he too had eyes pooled with tears. It made her forget her own sorrow. Thranduil looked broken. As if he had lost a battle he had been fighting with himself. “If you had betrayed me I could let you go…” he said, his tears started rolling down. “But now I can’t…” he choked as he covered his face as if he was ashamed. “I’m just a selfish bastard…”

 

In a second Leuthil was up closing the distance between them. She took his hands in his, he turned his face away. The contact was not enough so she just chose to forget everything that had happened between them and embraced the ellon she loved so much.

 

Both of them cried silently. She caressed and kissed Thranduil’s soft hair feeling his tears as his face rested on her chest. The Queen wished she had done this before. Perhaps if she had held Thranduil like that before instead of leaving, he would not be this broken. Perhaps they could have healed from the sorrow of losing their daughter together instead of falling apart. But those days were gone. Thranduil loved her still and she loved him with an unstoppable force. They were wounded but they would heal as they held on together.

 

Thranduil turned his head and looked up at her, eyes swollen and wet, his lips slightly ajar. She leaned and kissed him. Although mixed with the salt of his tears his taste had not changed. His hands rested on her hips, bringing her closer. His mouth opened wider and their tongues tangled in an erotic dance both trying to taste more of the other. Single drops of tear still ran down on Thranduil’s cheeks and he trembled but his hands were powerful when they cupped her face and tangled in her hair. Only when the need for air was dire they split apart as they panted hard, lips inches away sharing the same air as they leaned their foreheads together.

 

“I should let you go…” Thranduil whispered. “I should not be this selfish…”

 

He was silenced by her finger on his lips. “I fell in love with a possessive and selfish prince…” she whispered, caressing his jawline. “Show me you’re still him.”

 

Thranduil pulled her to another kiss rather roughly. Teeth, tongues and lips crashed messily as they tried to feed a hunger suppressed so long. Thranduil rose from where he was sitting on the ledge forcing the Queen to crane her neck slightly to keep up with the kiss. Her hands found the belt of his robes and undid it easily. The robe fell from his shoulders as did her garment which she had not realized when its clasps were undone by his nimble fingers.

 

Thranduil broke the kiss and she saw fire in his eyes. Her hands was already struggling with the laces of his breeches. She could already feel the growing arousal there and it burned her insides to know he wanted just what she did, that he had been just as hungry for a comfort such as this. A surprised gasp left her throat as he clawed the tiara out of her hair and send it to wherever it had a head to go like it was a piece of rubbish and not loads of valuable stones and gold.

 

Just as the circlet rolled away on the floor she managed to yank the offensive breeched down his hips rather forcefully. As if in revenge he teared her silk undergarment in two with one powerful motion of his hands. The King took to kissing her neck and jaw, leaving a moist line there as they stumbled to the bed and fell on the covers naked.

 

Leuthil dragged herself up on the mattress to find a suitable place for her head on the pillows but was stopped when Thranduil started kissing and nipping her neck and collarbone. His exploring hands caressed her arms and found her bare breasts. She released a long suppress moan when he squeezed and rubbed her nipples, his mouth still working on the white column of her neck, leaving sweet marks of love there. His hot breath hit her moistened skin bringing goosebumps to her skin.

 

When his hot mouth closed around her nipple the Queen whimpered and arced her body towards the torment. Thranduil’s hands were running up and down her thighs then. His fingers found her wet and hot core. He did not comment on the shameful wanton that was dripping there when he fingered her with two long digits as his thump played with her sensitive spot.

 

She moaned loudly not caring if her sound would carry the secret of their lovemaking outside to the still awake elves traversing the corridors in the evening. Thranduil’s hand released her to grab the pale cheeks of her buttocks, yanking her towards him as he rested between her spread legs. Though judging from his fast handling Leuthil expected him to enter her swiftly he pulled himself up to kiss her again, his breath irregular on her face. However before his lips could reach hers, Thranduil gasped and rolled off her, covering the left side of his face seconds after she saw the wounds appear on his cheek. It scared Leuthil at first to think that Thranduil might feel pain whenever the illusion was lift off. He had probably lost it due to the extreme emotions running through him and it twisted the Queen’s heart both from happiness and sorrow. Sorrow that this was to be his fate, and happiness that he still loved her like this.

 

Before she could react Thranduil was off her covering his face with both of his hands. Leuthil sat up getting a glimpse of the burnt flesh on his neck where he could not hide. “I’m sorry…” he kept saying as he turned away from her, his voice muffled by his hands. “I’m sorry…” Leuthil could hear the tremble in his voice.

 

Leuthil crawled over to him. She did not know what to do or say but chose to trust her gut feelings. “Hush my love…” she soothed as she grabbed his wrists trying to pull away his hands from his face. “Look at me…” Thranduil resisted, still firmly covering her face. She leaned and kissed the back of his hands and fingers. His skin smelled of the spring rain. Slowly she slipped her own fingers between his and forced him to pull down his hands. Immediately Thranduil turned his face away like a shy child. “Leave it be Leuthil…” he choked on the lump in his throat. The Queen however had not the head to listen. She placed her hands on his jaw and tenderly tried to turn his face towards herself, mindful of the scars marring the perfect skin.

 

Thranduil resisted stubbornly but he was weak when it came to Leuthil. It took her much persuasion to sway him but at last the King turned his face towards her shamefully sharing the sight of the scars in all their horrid glory. For the first time Leuthil found the chance to observe them in detail. To her the wounds were neither ugly nor disgusting. It was true that they were deformities but the scars told many stories of glory and war. To her they were a part of Thranduil which she would love none the less. Her gaze danced up and down from where the injuries started on his temple and extended down to his eye, surprisingly leaving his eyebrow untouched, and to his cheek where the damage was worst of all. All the time Thranduil was looking away in embarrassment. Leuthil would not have it. She needed him to know that he was not disgusting or monstrous for her. He was more beautiful than ever and anyone who failed to see it was simply blind. Automatically her hands found his face and she traced the edge of the scars with her fingers, careful at first since she feared causing him pain, but then her touch became more daring.

 

Thranduil’s breath hitched when he felt her cool fingers on the sensitive skin. No one instead of Elrond had dared to touch his wounds and the Peredhel’s touch was a healer and patient contact. This touch was different. Leuthil’s fingers felt different. There was hesitance in them but also love and kindness, of hunger to nurture. Thranduil gasped audibly when she leaned in, her warm breath teasing his skinless cheek before she kissed it. His eyes closed involuntary and a broken sob escaped him. As she kissed and licked the wounds like she-wolf giving affection to her mate, for a few moment Thranduil forgot that he was blind and scared and burned beyond repair. He felt whole again.

 

Under her ministrations Leuthil watched and then felt under her lips that the scars closed and the clouded eye was replaced by the familiar sharp aquamarine orb she knew. Thranduil still trembled and tears danced in his eyes. She kissed his lips again and with a small amount of force made him lie down on his back as she sat on his lap. His hair spayed on the pillows like melted gold and his hands found her hips.

 

The Queen took his member, now large and heavy with want, and guided him to her core, never breaking the needy gaze. Thranduil’s eyes rolled back as Leuthil slowly sank down on his manhood. She gasped at the intrusion, marveling at how long it had been since he stretched her so sweetly. Thranduil arced his back slightly when the Queen was filled with his arousal to the base making him feel her soft insides. She bent down and sealed their lips. He clawed in her hair for dear life and kissed her back hungrily, all teeth and tongue and unleashed passion.

 

She started moving then; at first slow and teasing but then needy and fast. Leuthil loved the look in her beloved’s eyes; the love and lust and the slight insecurity. His hands started to explore. He touched every part of her skin he could reach as if memorizing her curves all over again. But somehow it was not enough.

 

A joyful yelp escaped Leuthil’s throat as Thranduil grabbed her sides and turned them over. This was the King’s true spirit; passionate and dominant, and the Queen was happy to see it was still there, hidden behind the insecurities and wounds.

 

Thranduil started pounding in her hard. Each powerful thrust sending her upwards on the mattress until she was made to hold on the headboard. Moans of passion filled the room. Their skin, covered with a layer of sweat, slid on each other easily. His lumps filled her curves and hers filled his, as if they were pieces of the same puzzle completing each other.

 

Leuthil knew she was close and from her husband’s erratic breathing and uneven thrust she could tell he would not last much longer either. A moan left her when he bit on her neck possessively adding another mark of possession. His thrusts were deep and intent. Every single one of them taking her breath away.

 

“Look at me…” he asked, breathless. “Let me see the pleasure in your eyes…”

 

Leuthil did not know she had closed her eyes until then. Her eyelids were heavy when she opened them. Her gaze found Thranduil’s. She had wished they could start over and in that moment when he showed him how much he loved her still, hope illuminated the dark corners of her heart. She did not know that the male atop him was feeling just the same. The Queen wished she could give him a child with eyes like his, so they may forget they were bereaved so mercilessly. She did not know he wished as well that they could have a child with eyes like hers so that they could forget and move on.

 

They reached the peak of the mountain of passion together and then they fell down from its height holding on to each other. Leuthil felt content only when his hot seed filled her. He kissed her again as the waves of passion left his exhausted body, this time slowly and more assuring.

 

He collapsed on his back and gathered his wife in his arms. He had missed feeling the heaviness of her head on his chest, the softness of her curls as he ran his fingers through them and the lazy arm she flung over his torso possessively. She had missed the hardness of his chest and the steady powerful rhythm of his heart beating under her ear, the slight rise and high of his still uneven breathing.

 

The thud of something landing on their bed startled them until they saw the baby elk stumbling on the mattress with his long legs. They both laughed heartily when the little beast tried to separate them with hitting his nose where they were joined like a jealous child. He was only content and snorted happily when they opened a space for him between them.

 

“I should think of a more spacious place to keep him!” Thranduil said sleepily. “I can’t share you with him!”

 

The Queen chuckled. “You can train him into your mare…” Leuthil said softly caressing the elk between his ears. “He already loves you.” The beast straightened his ears as if he knew they were talking about him.

 

“That would be an odd choice of mount!” Thranduil commented.

 

Leuthil’s hand cupped his face and made him look at her before she kissed him softly again.

“You are the Elvenking my love!” she whispered. “You are an oddity yourself!”

 

 

 

 


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, I was on a rather long vacation and did not have my laptop with me...  
> This chapter is the end of many things and the beginning of many other matters. hope you enjoy!

Glorfindel shuffled on his feet a few times before finding the heart to knock on the door to the King’s study. Thranduil’s authoritative voice bid him to enter and he took a deep breath before doing so.   
He had not been surprised when he had been summoned by the Elvenking but still it did nothing to help his strain. He knew that sooner or later Thranduil would want him to answer for his actions. Th Balrog-slayer could not actually blame him. He would have done the same and even much more if someone had kissed his wife. So Glorfindel had prepared himself for everything and was ready to do anything the King wanted if only for Elrond’s sake. 

The study was lit up with candles as it was deep in the heart of the evening; the last evening they were spending in Mirkwood. Sat behind the huge desk full of papers was the Elvenking. He still looked weak and weary but he had returned to his duties which was a good thing. Glorfindel did not like the Woodland king but he had to admit that he was a powerful force against the darkness in the east; perhaps the only elven ally they had on the other side of the mountains. So the Balrog-slayer was glad that Thranduil was on his feet again if only for the good of Middle-Earth. As Elrond always reminded him; you did not have to be friend with someone for him to be your ally. 

“King Thranduil…” he mumbled and bowed his head when he reached the center of the study. 

Thranduil looked up from his work. His aquamarine eyes looked dark and piercing in the dimness of the room. His lips twitched in what could be called a forced smile and with his hand he invited the Lord to sit. Glorfindel did as he was bid and waited. It took Thranduil a while to start talking as he busied himself with the scrolls on the desk in front of him. 

“I am extremely furious because of your actions…” the King at last said bluntly. “I would have never expected such a stupid and dishonoring thing from you.”

Glorfindel felt that this was the moment when he should start apologizing and opened his mouth to do just that but Thranduil raised his hand and stopped him. The Balrog-slayer closed his mouth and waited. 

“You are not one to do something you regret so please do not apologize when you are not truly sorry…” the Elvenking said dryly. 

Glorfindel was happy to be spared the humiliation. Thranduil was an arrogant bastard but he was not up for lies and honeyed phrases and Glorfindel had always respected him for that. “I will do whatever you ask for reciprocation.” The Balrog-slayer said. 

“You have done great service for my realm. Without your command my realm and army would have been in lesser shape. But I know that no one is flawless.” Thranduil said. “All is already forgiven…”

Glorfindel was relived yet shocked. The Elvenking was famous for his prejudiced nature. To let go of such a matter easily was very out of character.   
“I must admit I’m surprised…” the Balrog-slayer pressed. “I thought you would be more vengeful…” 

“I am very much irritated. But I believe in second chances…” the King said, eyes warmer. “I’ve had dozens of those myself.”

Glorfindel studied the Elvenking for a few moment but then he nodded his appreciation. Thranduil smiled. This time truly. His eyes had a distant look in them as if he was seeing some faraway memory. 

“I fell asleep to tales of your glories many times as a child…” Thranduil said. “I wish to remember you like that.”

“I’m glad we will not part as enemies…” Glorfindel smiled. 

“As long as you stay away from my wife...” the King reminded firmly.

The Balrog-slayer felt littled but perhaps he deserved it so he merely nodded before standing. Thranduil stood as well bidding him farewell with a hand on his chest. Glorfindel did the same before walking out of the study glad and sad both at the same time that his dealings with Mirkwood were finally coming to an end. 

***

As Thranduil descended the stairs the Imladrian horses came into view. The scene made him sad. He wished not say goodbye to Elrond and though he knew his army was on his feet again and his realm safely moved he felt vulnerable without the Rivendell troops and the aid of their Lord. 

Elrond smiled when he saw him approach. He had his travelling armor on and he looked more authoritative. 

“It’s time for goodbye after all…” he said when Thranduil was close enough.

“I wished it wasn’t…” the King said sadly. 

“It’s not forever…” the Lord said. “We’ll see each other soon.”

 

Thranduil nodded. He gazed at Elrond uncertainly but then he embraced the lord. Elrond chuckled and hugged him back in a fatherly manner. 

“Update me on the events of the east…” Elrond said when they broke apart.

“I will…” Thranduil assured. 

“Take care of yourself my friend…” Elrond tapped him on the shoulder. Thranduil merely nodded. 

The King watched as the Peredhel climbed up the saddle and with a last nod ordered his troops out of Greenwood towards their long journey. Thranduil hoped they would reach their safe and beautiful valley with no events. 

***  
It was almost the end of fall. Cold wind made Thranduil shiver despite his thick coat as he stood beside the training grounds and watched Erhan combat with his peers. The young ellon was absolutely ruling the field and the King felt proud to have him as his sentry. Galdor had tried many times to sway him from his decision; telling him that Erhan was young and inexperienced for protecting him but Thranduil liked the young ellon and now in the pitch he was truly showing his worth. When his last opponent yielded they called it a day. The guard immediately put on his robes and then started packing his weapons, the others scattering away. 

Thranduil approached his sentry. Sensing him Erhan turned. His eyes widened in surprised. It was after all strange for the King to come down to the pitch where soldier’s trained and practiced. But the sentry composed himself and bowed to his king. “My lord…” he breathed. 

“You practice much…” Thranduil commented knowing that the sentry spent four hours a day in training. 

“I wish to stay in shape my king…” Erhan said. He seemed anxious as if he had done something wrong. “If it is interfering with my duties I will stop my lord.”

Thranduil shook his head and the other relaxed a bit. The King looked around the pitch. Although after a few months he had gotten somewhat used to his blinded eye and his limited sight Thranduil feared for the day he had to fight. He always battled with two swords; equally powerful with both hands. However with his left eye gone he knew he would not stand a chance against any enemy. His opponent only needed to shift to his left side to defeat him. Still he was reluctant to phrase his issue, even to Galdor. He felt embarrassed and humiliated. But he had to do something. 

“M…my…left eye; it was blinded during the battle…” he finally stammered, looking away as he felt hot blood rush to his face. 

When he dared to glance at his sentry he saw a bit of surprise in his eyes but Erhan composed himself quickly. Thranduil assumed that he was not exactly shocked from the news since he was there in the battle but that the sentry was surprised that the King was sharing this. 

“I need to train so that I can use my other senses in combat…” Thranduil continued. He took a breath before continuing. It was hard for him to ask this. “Can you help me…?”

It took Erhan a few moments to gather himself and utter his reply. “Of…of course my lord…” he stammered. “I have no experience in this but I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“I don’t want anyone to know, not even Galdor…” the King said sternly. 

“I understand…” Erhan nodded. 

“Then we shall start tomorrow…” Thranduil smiled.

“As you wish…” the sentry smiled back. 

As much as he hated it, Thranduil needed help and he had to get over his pride and ask for it. The King had thought it to be harder but in fact as he walked back to his study that day he realized he was looking forward to his practice sessions. 

***

As Galdor walked down the corridor he realized how cold the weather had become. They were indeed approaching winter and the Steward could not say that he was looking forward to the chill. However his mind was at rest knowing that the crops and food saved in the spring and summer would be more than enough to feed the whole realm even if they could not provide anything during winter. He was however worried about the roads and had an idea to send patrols to stop the snow from blocking the ways so he was heading to the King’s study to inform him about his plans.

The Steward was surprised to see Erhan was not at Thranduil’s door. He mentally reviewed the guarding programs that he had strictly scheduled and knew that the sentry ought to be there. Irritation surged through him. It was necessary to guard the King’s study the entire time and no excuse could be made. Galdor did not wish to go straight to Thranduil for such a matter but he made a mental note to go after the sentry and give him an ultimatum. This was not q job to play with. 

He knocked on the door. No answer came. Again he knocked and called Thranduil but again no answer. The Steward cautiously cracked the door open. No one was there.   
It was strange since Thranduil would normally be working in his study at that time of the day. Galdor came out and closed the door behind him. A frown settled on his complexion as he thought of where he could find the King and absentmindedly he started walking down the corridor. 

Perhaps Thranduil had gone training. The thought came to the Steward because he had not seen the Sindar’s weapon’s in the study. Previously the King tended to suddenly go down to the private training fields when his brain could take no more reports and petitions. He did that less after the battle. The thought of him practicing again brought a smile to Galdor’s lips. He wanted to see Thranduil become his normal self again. Despite knowing that his guess about the King’s whereabouts may be wrong he started walking towards the small pitch Thranduil saved for his own training. 

The private training field was located behind some short hills and was away from prying eyes. Not many knew that it existed.   
As Galdor climbed the small hill he heard the swinging of swords and again he smiled to himself knowing that Thranduil was indeed there because no one else used that ground. But when he heard the clashing of metal he frowned. Thranduil was not alone if there was an opponent sword to hit his own. He sped his steps and ignored the rapid hammering of his heart against his chest until he reached the hilltop.

Thranduil was indeed there but there was also Erhan. The scene by itself made the Steward furious and he could not believe that Thranduil was in fact training with his guard. It made Galdor’s blood boil. The second thing he noted was that Thranduil was blindfolded and Erhan was circling him like a predator. The only thing that calmed the Steward was that Thranduil had his swords and Galdor knew that the King was training to combat with no eyes. Still it made the Steward extremely angry to see how much Thranduil trusted his sentry. The guard could easily kill him in such a situation. He wanted to shout at him for putting himself in such a vulnerable state. 

Erhan moved and raised his sword to attack. Galdor’s heart skipped a bit before he saw Thranduil raise his sword too, thankfully in the right direction. He swung his swords clumsily and Erhan kept attacking him as the King achieved absolutely nothing with his eyes closed. The Steward clenched his fists in protectiveness as he watched Thranduil stumble in an uncharacteristically ungraceful manner and was caught by the sentry. 

Galdor’s heart burned with possessiveness and jealousy as he watched Thranduil in the sentry’s arms. Erhan helped the King stand straight again; Thranduil absolutely in his mercy. Galdor’s stomach lurched. He wanted to go down the hill, push the guard away from Thranduil and rearrange his face for daring to touch the Sindar. He wanted to take Thranduil away, shake some sense into him until he remembered he was Galdor’s protect and no other. 

Instead the Steward turned away from them. He wrapped his arms around himself and walked away. Gritting his teeth and huffing like an angry wolf he went back to the palace, locked himself in his chamber and stayed there for the rest of the day. He even did not go to the King when he was summoned. 

***

As he sat on his chair in his study with his left hand Thranduil threw an apple in the air. He could not see it but he caught it back skillfully and smirked to himself smugly. In a few weeks he had seen the result of his trainings with Erhan. He had been deeply discouraged when blinded in one eye but now it was as if he had gotten half of his life back. While he used to run into things like a clumsy goat, now he could even fight blindfolded and he was rather proud of himself. Though he knew his skills still needed improvement, he felt stronger already and he was greatly thankful to his sentry. He had been encouraging and patient with him, even when Thranduil had his moments of weakness. 

He threw the apple and caught it one more time before sinking down on his chair and biting a big juicy piece of the red fruit happily. Everything was going in a rather good direction. Winter had come but the food was enough, the roads were clear, his wife was in love with him and he was now almost completely capable of fighting an enemy standing on his left. The pain of the things he had lost were still there but they looked more bearable. The only thing that nagged behind his mind was Galdor. The Steward acted strange around him lately and Thranduil had an impression that his friend was avoiding him for some reason. He had no idea why however. 

The door was knocked and after his call which was muffled behind the apple bites he had stuffed in his mouth rather ungracefully, Alheru entered. Immediately the King swung his legs off the desk on which they were resting in a very impolite manner and tried to chew half of the apple occupying his mouth and pooping out from under his cheeks. However his attempts were in vain and Alheru gave him a look of disgust that reminded Thranduil of his father. 

“If Oropher had seen this scene he would have voluntarily retuned to the grave!” the Lord commented.

It took Thranduil a few moments to chew the apple under Alheru’s reproachful gaze. Still when he swallowed the fruit it felt like sending down a rock and the King knew the Lord was teasing him just to make the apple taste like ash in his throat. He looked up at Alheru breathless from his struggle and after a few moments of gazing the Lord chuckled and shook his head as he sat down. 

“I think my father would have never died if he knew what kind of a king I would become!” Thranduil agreed.

“Oh I think he knew, and I think he would have been proud of you!” Alheru smiled. “Though he would have never admitted it!”

Thranduil chuckled at that. Silence fell between them and Thranduil saw melancholy settle on his father in law’s expression. The King could not fathom why. 

“Are you getting along well with Leuthil?!” Alheru asked.

“Yes…” Thranduil replied smiling. “The pain of our loss is still there but dealing with it seems much easier together.”

A soft smile found Alheru’s lips as he nodded his approval. “Good…” he said. “You love each other…neither of you would have survived without the other.”

Thranduil agreed. The agony of losing their child was perhaps the deepest pain one could endure. He felt that rebuilding their love was the only thing keeping them afloat. He was greatly thankful for not losing Leuthil to his own stupidity. Now they had hope.   
The King’s trail of thoughts were taken to another way as he saw the look of sorrow settle on Alheru’s face again. It worried him but before he could ask, his father in law started talking again. 

“I too wish to reunite with my love…” he said.

At first Thranduil did not register the Lord’s words. Alheru’s wife had sailed to Valinor long ago, before Thranduil had even met his daughter. As if in answer to his confused expression the Silvan answered. 

“I wish to sail Thranduil…”

The King’s heart sank in his chest and for a few moments Alheru’s words did not sink in. Thranduil had known the Silvan Lord for most of his life; since the day he stepped into Greenwood with his mother; knowing that Oropher had built a little kingdom there. Alheru was one of the Silvan nobles who welcomed them, housed and fed them while they were cold and weary from a ruthless war. Thranduil had then known the Lord as the ruler of the training fields and one of the most influential Lords of the council. All the soldiers of Greenwood were trained under him and the result had shown itself in the Last Alliance. Thranduil also knew the Silvan as his father’s trustee and friend and the keeper of his secrets. After the war, Alheru was the closest person he had to a father and he reminded him of his own strict adar; though the Lord had shown him much more affection than his own sire.   
The thought of losing Alheru was unbearable. His soldiers would lose a great trainer and his council a great advisor; but these were replaceable matters, however the pain in his chest and the feeling of being left alone by yet another one of his loved ones could not be reconciled. He also had Leuthil to think of. Thranduil feared for her wellbeing if her father was to sail. The King was tempted to selfishly forbid Alheru from leaving but he knew the pain of being away from ones lover and he could not blame the Lord for wanting to leave. 

“Don’t leave…” he croaked, though he knew it will not stop the Silvan.

“I’ll stay until you find someone to replace me…” Alheru smiled tenderly. He then stood from his place. Thranuil followed his gesture and rose as well. 

Seeing how the King has sunk deep in sorrow from his decision, Alheru walked closer and placed a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. The Sindar looked up at him with hurt eyes. 

“You are not alone…” he said. “Otherwise I would have never left …”

A light knock on the door snapped them both out of the conversation. Slowly the door opened and Leuthil entered the study. She looked somber and Thranduil assumed she had already been informed of Alheru’s decision. But the King noticed something more on his wife. He could not put his finger on it but despite the sadness she looked very much beautiful to him. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” she said, her eyes flickering back and forth between them. 

“No my dear…” Alheru answered before Thranduil could. “I was just leaving.”

With a light tap on the King’s shoulder and a smile to his daughter, the Silvan left the study and closed the door behind him. Leuthil looked up at her husband. “He told you, didn’t he?” she murmured. 

Thranduil nodded, not really knowing what to say to make her feel better. Tears formed in the Queen’s eyes and though she tried to look away Thranduil saw. He approached his wife and took her in her arms. 

“How can he do this to me!?” she sobbed into his chest. 

“I guess he’s tired.” Thranduil sighed as he caressed her hair. “I would have done the same if you were waiting for me in Valinor…”

His words seemed to sooth her a bit and her sobs turned to sniffs. Thranduil wiped her cheeks and kissed her until she looked somewhat better. 

“I guess you’re right…” she said after a while, voice raspy from crying. “He’s been away from my mother too long…”

“Yes…” Thranduil agreed. “He’s been alone.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it had been for you when your adar was killed…” the Queen sighed. “Mine is merely going to a better place but I can bear to be parted.”

“It was very hard…” Thranduil nodded. “But stronger loves gave hope to me…I loved you so much that it helped me endure the pain in hope of seeing you again.”

Leuthil smiled as the King leaned in and kissed her. It was not lustful or passionate. It was reassuring, like the promise of spring in a cold winter night. When they broke apart she already felt warmer, more confident that she could go on and Thranduil was proud that he was the one giving her this assurance and support. When Leuthil looked up at him again, the King was surprised to see a trace of mischief in her eyes. 

“Then I hope you have a little more love to spare…” she whispered against his lips. 

“Why?” Thranduil asked puzzled.

“Soon it will be three of us…” she said. 

Thranduil’s breath hitched in his throat and he felt the pang of feelings in his chest that he could not comprehend. He must have looked ridiculous because Leuthil was giggling. The King felt so many things at the same time that it was making him dizzy. So he merely embraced his beloved and dug his face in her hair. “I love you…” he whispered. Even the thought of holding a child of his own again made his heart twist in excitement.


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These pre-action chapters are hard for me to write. I choke on them...so sorry again for the long wait.

As the Queen sat behind the dressing table, she gazed at her own image looking back at her. A few months ago she did not even have the heart to look at the mirror for the person she saw was a broken and bereaved shadow of an elleth once beautiful. Her eyes had been hollow and her expression cramped with grief and sorrow. Now a different person looked back at her. She felt it was more similar to herself. Though deep in her blue eyes sorrow still lingered like an old wound trying to close up, hope danced in her orbs as well and the Queen knew well what the cause was.

 

Absentmindedly she stroke her stomach where still showed no sign of the miracle inside her but was soon to swell and grow. Her heart fluttered like a bird in a cage when she thought of her child; _their_ child. Leuthil was already so excited to hold their baby and the prospect of waiting so many months seemed unbearably long to her. But she would wait patiently and hoped that this child would bring hope to their lives and a light they so desperately needed in that darkness. The Queen felt her baby was the only reason she could handle her father’s departure.

 

The door of the room was opened gently and Thranduil walked in. He sighed with relief when he closed the door behind him and shut the outside world out of their privacy.

 

“I did not expect you so soon…” Leuthil commented, looking at him in the mirror. The King looked healthier now. Though still not the same but he had gained weight. His face was fuller and his eye shown again with the light of life.

 

“My wise advisors were fighting like elflings, so I assumed we would not reach any conclusions for the night…”Thranduil explained as he took of his crown and placed it on the mantle. “I passed them on to Galdor…he’ll wrap it up!” he continued. “Also I managed to convince your mighty father to stay a few weeks more…”

 

Luethil hummed happily as she gathered her hair over one shoulder and started combing the dark strands. Thranduil approached the dressing table as he continued. “Besides, something arrived that I needed to show you…”

He then placed a wooden box on the table. Leuthil immediately recognized the fine woodcraft of the most famous jewelry shop of the Market.

 

“What’s this?!” she asked, looking up at her husband.

 

“A present…” Thranduil replied.

 

“For what!?” the Queen asked again puzzled.

 

“It’s a Sindar tradition!” Thranduil rolled his eyes. “We give our wives jewelry when they deliver the news of pregnancy…”

 

“I thought presents are supposed to be given after the child is born!” Leuthil said amused.

 

“That’s a Silvan tradition!” Thranduil corrected sternly, a hint of glee clear in his voice. “However, you need not worry…Since I consider myself both; you’ll receive your Silvan gift as well!”

 

Leuthil giggled as the King leaned and kissed her hair. Thought she was used to be gifted by Thranduil it had been a long time from the last time. The tragedies had left no morale for either of them. The Queen felt a joyful anticipation dance in her arms. She slowly opened the lead of the box, revealing a breathtaking necklace of white gems. The light gleaming from the piece was as if a thousands of stars were trapped inside the box. The Queen gasped at the brightness. She had not expected something so fancy and expensive and of course so beautiful.

Leuthil looked up at her husband to thank him and yet remind him that he did not have to spoil her that much but Thranduil had a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed at the necklace.

 

“This is a close copy of the necklace of Lasgalen…the one the Great King gifted to Queen Melian…” he explained in whisper. “I drew the design and gave it to the jeweler. He has done a marvelous job since my memory was not exactly detailed…”

 

“They say Doriath fell because of that necklace…” Leuthil said mind drifting away to an image she had made in her mind of the old citadel since it was destroyed years before she was born.

 

“Many things happened because too many people loved those gems…” Thranduil sighed more lightly shooing away the bad memories. “But this is not that necklace…it is just a piece of jeweler similar to Lasgalen in beauty, nothing more…” The King detached it from the box and placed it on his wife’s chest.

 

Leuthil watched as Thranduil locked the necklace behind her neck. She could sense that there were reasons whether mental or emotional that had driven the King to order this specific piece for her. After all Thranduil had lived through the history that she had only read and heard of. Whether those reasons were apparent to the Elvenking or subconscious was another matter and Leuthil decided to drop the matter for she knew Thranduil had seen tragedies in Doriath that he never talked about. So the Queen merely enjoyed the coldness of the gems on her chest and the warmth of Thranduil’s hands caressing her shoulders.

 

“It’s beautiful…”she commented dreamily as she gazed at the reflection in the mirror. Thranduil smiled, satisfied.

He leaned down and started kissing the Queen’s neck. She suppressed a gasp and caressed his hair as he continued down her back which was bare and left uncovered by her nightdress.

 

The King then stopped abruptly and stood. He walked away to the closet and started changing for the night, leaving his wife frustrated and extremely lustful. But Thranduil walked to the bathroom without paying her any mind and started washing his face. He then dried his skin and slipped under the blankets with his back to his wife like a sulking elfling.

 

Leuthil frowned. She placed the necklace back in its box and went to the bed as well. She too went under the blankets but with frustration written on her actions. The Queen pulled the sheets towards herself forcefully, leaving Thranduil nothing to cover himself with.

The King gasped and looked at her over his shoulder quizzically. The slight turn allowed Leuthil to see the slight bulge in his breeches and not to mention the fact that it was strange for Thranduil to sleep in his breeches.

 

“You’re aroused!” Leuthil stated matter of factly.

 

Thranduil followed the Queen’s gaze to his covered cock and then back. “So!?” he shrugged innocently.

 

“So why don’t we…?” the Silvan raised her eyebrows.

 

“You’re pregnant!” Thranduil said as if it was an obvious fact.

 

“Who said that would be a problem?!” the Queen asked.

 

Thranduil sighed and turned on his side so he was facing his wife. Leuthil could see doubt and indecision in his face, like an elfling torn between something he liked and the thing that was right. It was rather cute but she was not up for cute at that moment. “No-one said anything…!” he mumbled. “But I’m afraid I might hurt you, or our child!”

 

“Just shut up love…” Leuthil rolled her eyes as she leaned in and kissed her stupid husband. He kissed her back for a long time; tongues dancing slowly until their lungs burned and the need for air was dire.

Thranduil caressed her hair fondly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Who would think you dare to shut the Elvenking up!” he chuckled, eyes filled with admiration.

 

“Who would think the great Elvenking is afraid that he might hit his child on the head with his cock!” she added.

Thranduil groaned and grabbed her by her waist. “Now that calls for punishment.” He announced as he turned his wife around on her stomach and hovered above her, Leuthil giggling madly.

 

He slapped her on her butt lightly, eliciting a happy yelp from her before opening the ties of the nightdress and uncovering her slender body and milky skin. The King loved her spine and the line of slight buds stretching down her back. He lowered his face and started kissing each single one, licking his way down. Leuthil heard him get rid of his trousers and she jumped and gasped when his hands snaked under her and rubbed her breasts. She turned her face as Thranduil leaned in and they kissed passionately, both wanting desperately to taste the other. It was then that he entered her and took her to great bliss. Their moans of pleasure filled the room as they made love through the night climbing the mountain of their desire and fell from its peak together; forgetting the cruel world outside and their sorrowful past; if only for a few hours until dawn.

 

***

 

The cold wind unmercifully proved that it was indeed winter and most predicted that soon snow would fall. The wind blew through the clothes of the elves in the courtyard and made their cloaks dance in the air. Many had come to say farewell to Lord Alheru. He had after all trained countless soldiers in his centuries of service. Many of whom were now captains or great warriors. Even the King was trained under him. As Galdor watched the Lord say his farewells he fathomed that the impact of Alheru’s departure would show itself to them in a few months for the Steward knew it was unlikely that Thranduil would find anyone worthy of replacing the Silvan Lord.

 

After all the goodbyes Alheru walked to Thranduil who was standing with the Queen beside her sniffing into his shoulder. Thranduil’s face was twisted; whether it was from the pain of his face that heightened in the winter of from sadness, Galdor could not tell.

Alheru smiled at the King before kneeling on one knee. He stretched his hand, offering his seal which had been given to him by Oropher when he had been assigned as the Chief Trainer of the Royal Army. Now that he was leaving, the Lord had to submit the sign of his status as any elf going to Valinor went with only his name and no station.

 

“Your father gave me this seal your majesty and with it his trust; I was fortunate enough that you deemed me worthy of my station and allowed me to serve during your rein as well…” he said. “I now surrender my seal and beg you to release me from my oath, your majesty…”

 

Thranduil gazed at the Lord for a few moments; as if wishing he could stop him from going. But at last he took the seal. “You’re departure would be a great loss my Lord and your services will never be forgotten” the King said. “I release you from your oath to me and the Great Greenwood, for your vow is fulfilled. You may rise…”

 

Alheru obeyed. Already his face seemed more tranquil, as if a great weight had been taken off his shoulders. He bowed his head for the King but Thranduil would not have it. He stepped forward and embraced the Lord. Alheru chuckled but hugged him back.

 

“Thank you for being my father when I had none…” he whispered in the Lord’s shoulder before they broke apart.

 

Alheru chuckled and tapped him on his cheek like he used to when the King was an elfling. “Take care of my daughter…” he ordered.

 

“I will…” Thranduil nodded. “May your journey be safe…”

 

Alheru then turned to his daughter who was crying like baby. He smiled. The signs of pregnancy were already showing in her as there was a slight swell on her belly. The Lord gently pulled her into his arms and allowed his girl to cry on his chest for a while as he whispered soothing words to her. When the Queen ran out of tears she opened her fist and offered a necklace to her father. It was a small compass dangling from a chain. Her mother had given it to her before she left for Valinor. She knew it was superstations but it was her lucky charm and the only thing she could offer her father.

 

Alheru recognized the necklace and smiled. But he did not take it from her. The Lord closed Leuthil’s fingers around the compass and kissed her knuckles. “She gave it to you not me…” he whispered. The Lord tapped on his chest where a locket lay flushed on his skin under layers of clothes. “I have my own memoir from her.”

He then leaned and kissed his daughter’s temple. Leuthil started sobbing again as his father released her hand and walked to his horse.

 

They stayed in the courtyard and watched the caravan leave. When they were no longer visible in the trees Leuthil ran to the highest tower of the stronghold and watched the group again, until they became a dot in the great land of Middle-Earth.

 

***

 

Thranduil sat behind his desk playing with the seal Alheru had submitted to him two months after the Lord had informed him of his decision to leave Arda. It was deep into the night and the room was lit with a few candles. Though the King knew that Holgailion and Daitrid had complete control over the army, constant regeneration of the troops was of great importance and Thranduil was worried. A slight knock snapped him out of his thoughts and he sat straighter and bid the person to enter.

 

Erhan opened the door and walked inside closing it behind him. The King liked the graceful way and soundless movements of the young ellon. The sentry bowed low, the candles lighting the nervousness in his expression. Thranduil understood, he had summoned the poor sentry in the middle of the night like some psychopath stalker.

 

“My King…” he said, voice a little shaky.

 

“Come Erhan…sit down…” Thranduil greeted as he pointed at one of the seats in front of his desk. Erhan took it and sat on the edge. Uneasiness clear in his body. It amused Thranduil a bit.

 

“How are you?” he asked warmly. The King truly cared for his young sentry. This ellon had helped him through his worst fear and during that time he had bonded with his guard.

 

“I’m fine my Lord…thank you” Erhan smiled anxiously.

 

“Good…good.” Thranduil nodded satisfied as he sat back. “I wished to talk to you about something…”

 

“I hope I’ve not done anything wrong my Lord!” the sentry blurted out as his anxiousness got the better of him.

 

“No…in fact the opposite!” Thranduil chuckled at how Erhan relaxed.

 

The sentry then waited for Thranduil to continue as he gazed at him attentively.

“When my left eyes was blinded, it was like I had lost half of my life…” Thranduil started, gazing at his hands as he voiced his innermost feelings. “I couldn’t do my daily chores without breaking a few things each day, not to mention fight…it gave me an insecurity I had never felt before. It was like leaving with half a soul…”

Thranduil sighed. Recalling the emotions he had lived through were at least half as bad. Still he did not feel the same when all he could see through his left eye was darkness. But with the help of his sentry he was much better. He felt safe and confident again. “You helped me through it and now I’m the closest as I could be to the person I used to be…” he looked up at his guard and continued. “I owe you Erhan.”

 

“I’m happy that I had a part in your improvement my Lord…” the sentry smiled. “But there’s no debt…”

 

“You deserve much…” Thranduil shook his head. “I have thought a lot and I wish to offer you a position. I would like you to replace Lord Alheru in the training grounds…as chief trainer of the royal army.”

 

Ehran’s dark eyes widened. Thranduil could feel the other holding his breath. The King was used to people’s surprise and shock when he offered them stations. But in Ehran’s eyes he saw sadness and he noted reluctance in how he darted his eyes away and wriggled his fingers.

 

“What’s wrong Erhan…?” the Sindar asked frowning in confusion. “I thought you’d be happy…”

 

“I _am_ happy my lord! I’m honored.” Erhan said immediately. “But…”

 

“But what?!” Thranduil demanded impatiently.

 

“It’s just…If this means that I will no longer be your sentry, then I do not want it.” The guard said timidly dropping his head.

 

Thranduil smiled. It warmed his heart to hear Erhan was satisfied with his job. And if he was honest with himself he preferred not to lose his skillful guard. He felt close and safe with Erhan like he never felt before with any of his sentries since Galdor had been promoted to higher stations.

“I do not intend to give Alheru’s position as the council advisor to you. So I do not believe you’d be too busy since the lower captains will do most of the job. If you can manage both me and the training fields then I don’t see a problem…”

 

Erhan’s face broke into a big grin. During their session that Erhan practiced with the King, Thranduil had noted how the sentry liked that job and how patient he was while training another. He was also firm and strong; just the right characteristics. The King could sense the waves of excitement coming from the Silvan and it made him smile as he stood. Erhan immediately did the same. His gaze followed Thranduil’s hand as the King offered the old seal to him. The sentry walked closer and took it, then he kneeled on his knee and kissed Thranduil’s hand.

 

Thranduil tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to rise. “You may leave…” he said to his breathless sentry. Erhan bowed low and walked out of the door with a huge grin. It amused Thranduil and he chuckled to himself in the darkness of the room. He hoped this decision would help his army that was under attack almost constantly these days.

 

***

 

Not three weeks later snow had covered the lands, so when Aleth stepped into Haron’s Hollow her shoes and robes were all wet. The graveyard was desolate and silent as the Princess walked towards the resting place of her child alone; clenching on the bouquet of winter flowers in her fist. 

 

No one had remembered. This was the day she had given birth to a child; a boy as Thranduil had said. This was the day she was told the baby had been born dead. The Princess had not even been permitted to see him. A shiver ran down her spine. It was a cruel world. The memory of being abused and defiled by filthy men had slowly faded by Galdor’s constant kindness and love; like a closed wound. But about her dead baby, there was always a nagging feeling in her heart. As if her child was not dead but lost.

 

Aleth had known that at last everyone would forget but her. She knew that Leuthil understood her pain, but there was a great difference between them. The Queen’s daughter was a child of the royal family and a great loss for the nation, hers however was a child of rape and a shameful reminder of what had transpired that everyone wished to forget. The Princess however was surprised to see Galdor already standing beside the grave. The Steward smiled when he saw her approach.

 

“Meleth-nin…” he breathed as he stretched his hand to take hers, the air around his mouth turning to a small cloud.

 

“What are you doing here?” Aleth asked as she took the offered hand and stepped into her husband’s warmth.

 

“You thought I had forgotten?” Galdor asked with slight disappointment in his voice. He draped a hand around Aleth’s shoulder.

 

“I didn’t expect anyone to remember…” she whispered, settling her head on Galdor’s shoulder. “Thank you…”

 

In response the Steward squeezed her shoulder gently. Together they stood in the silence of the graveyard, Aleth occasionally sniffing. But her heart was warmer now. Many had told her she could not be happy with Galdor. Many had said they were from different back grounds and they could not survive. But those people never knew this Galdor, who was holding her tight and showering her with care by just standing there.

 It started snowing again and soon snowflakes began to dance around the couple. Aleth’s tears felt hot on her frozen cheeks.  

 

“Come love…” Galdor whispered in her hair. “Let’s go back.”

 

The Princess nodded. She placed the flowers on the small grave, knowing that the dried petals would remain there for a while despite the cold. Together they started walking back to the stronghold, Galdor still holding her close. His touch was firm yet kind and the Princess felt better now; she felt more tranquil and secure. However she could sense the grimness in her husband. In fact it had been a while since she had noticed how joyless the Steward had become, not that they had much reason to be happy for recently.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked tenderly.

 

“Nothing dear…” Galdor sighed, though the tone of his voice said otherwise.

 

“I know there’s something bothering you…” Aleth pressed. “Tell me.”

 

Galdor sighed again and was silent for a few moments. The silence stretched so long that the Princess thought he would not say anything but at last the Steward voiced his problem.

 

“It’s Erhan…” he said, voice thick with bitterness. “Thranduil has placed him instead of Alheru, to supervise the trainers of the soldiers.”

 

“That’s a good thing isn’t it…?” Aleth said. “He’s a worthy young ellon…”

 

“Everyone seems to think that yes…” the Steward grumbled.  

 

“…And you don’t!” the Princess raised her eyebrows.

 

“I think Thranduil trusts him too much…” Galdor shrugged.

 

“Have you seen anything wrong from him?” Aleth asked rationally.

 

“No…” the Steward replied honestly.

 

“Well then you’re just jealous that he’s around Thranduil instead of you…” the Princess sighed shaking her head.

 

“I’m not!” Galdor protested.

 

“You are!” Aleth said. “Everyone knows you’re just possessive over him!”

 

To that the Steward just mumbled something incoherent making Aleth giggle lightly at his attitude as they strode back to the palace. They had just reached the gates when they spotted a soldier running towards them. They waited in an air of anticipation until the guard reached them. He bowed at the Princess and lowered his head for Galdor.

 

“My Lord, a letter arrived with a raven for you…” the soldier said, stretching a hand towards the steward.

 

***

 

The winter festival arrived soon. Deep into the heart of the cold season the elves ran around to prepare for celebrations. As a gesture of alliance Leuthil had managed to persuade Thranduil to invite the Lord and Lady of Lorien. Though the invitation had been done reluctantly on the Elvenking’s side, Galadriel and her husband had accepted it gracefully and arrived at the stronghold the night before. Elrond had not been able to come yet even some men from the east were invited as well. This year the festive had a special opening due to the attendance of foreign guests. Word had spread that the feast was arranged to start with a march of the royal army.  

 

So the feast began in the afternoon. When all the guest were sat and the people gathered around the king’s courtyard, some peering on their tip toes; the march music began and the soldiers emerged from the gates of the stronghold in wide lines, captains trotted on their horses in practiced harmony with the steps of the soldiers. It was a normal march, one the elves had seen many alike yet what made the crowd gasp and whisper was the huge number of elleths marching alongside ellons; equally dressed and equally treated.

 

Unconsciously Thranduil clenched the arm of his chair. His knuckles whitened as he tried to remain cold and expressionless under the judgment of his subjects. He could see the various and contradicting reactions. Some looked angry, some were mocking and others gazed with admiration. The female soldiers of his army were many and marched with pride and their heads high. Lady Galadriel leaned toward the King; a smile playing at her lips.

 

“Wise decision King Thranduil…” she whispered in that mysterious voice of hers.

 

To that the King merely nodded and gave a stern smile in return. He had not known how much he was squeezing the arm of the chair until Leuthil placed her soft hand on his.

 

The march ended with the soldiers lining up in organized ques in front of the royal pavilion. It was time for the King to give a brief speech and officially begin the feast. Thranduil stood from his place.

 

“It is with great pride that I watch the daughters of Greenwood learn to defend their home alongside their male comrades…” the Elvenking started, peering at the soldiers with warm eyes. “No longer will the Woodland girls wait passively for their fathers, brothers or husbands to protect them, but they will take their destiny into their own hands…”

 

The cheers rose in the courtyard. There were of course many who did not agree with this point of view but Thranduil’s heart warmed when he saw many of his subjects were in fact happy with this new decision. He raised his hand to gesture his words had not come to an end. Silence fell across the crowded courtyard again. The Elvenking stretched his arm and took the Queen’s hand in his, inviting her to stand beside him. She did as she was bid the small swell of her belly visible through her garment.

 

“In this auspicious evening my Queen and I would like to give you another great news as well…” Thranduil continued. He smiled at Leuthil before turning to his subjects again. “In a few months the Great Greenwood will welcome a prince or princess to her arms.”

 

This time the cheers deafened them. The music started at the same time and the feast officially began with fireworks. The King and Queen were surrounded by lords and ladies who approached to congratulate them. Celeborn even winked at the Elvenking for some twisted reason. Soon the elves were merry and drunk. Food was abundant, wine flowed like river and music dances in the chill of the air.

 

***

 

It was hours after midnight when the King and Galdor retired from the still continuing festive. They walked to Thranduil’s study seemingly to continue their own private feast in the chamber like they used to when they were younger. Duties had made a gap between them for a long time.

 

 “Did you see their faces? “ Thranduil giggled, slightly tipsy from the wine. “Celeborn’s expression was priceless.”

 

To that the Steward merely hummed. Expecting a more jovial reply from Galdor, Thranduil turned towards the Silvan. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

Galdor looked as if he was snapped out of a daydream. “Forgive me, my mind just went astray…”

 

“What’s troubling you? I could see you were grim all through the evening.” Thranduil said turning serious as he leaned his rear on the desk.

 

The Steward seemed hesitant at first. “A letter has arrived from one of our spies in southernwood.” He explained cautiously, knowing the matter was a bit sensitive for Thranduil. “He believes he has found the elleth we’re looking for.”

 

Thranduil frowned his dark eyebrows as he crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Is that so?” he said, now very attentive of what Galdor had to say.

 

“He has said that she is going to have a meeting with the men of the south in seven days at midnight to buy weapons.” Galdor continued his explanation. “He has given us the location.”

 

“Where is it?” the King encouraged.

 

“A cottage in the south, slightly inside the borders of men, but away from the village itself.” Galdor said.

 

Thranduil thought for a while, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. He looked calm but deep inside his stomach turned. This elleth; whoever she was, had turned his life to a living hell. She was even the conspirator behind his sister’s defilement and probably his daughter’s death. If there was something in the world Thranduil wanted with all his heart was to arrest her, see who she has been all the time and then kill her. The prospect seemed close at hand now.

“It’s a great opportunity to catch her. We should not lose it.” He said, his excitement visible in his voice. “We need to plan an attack to this cottage.”

 

“That’s exactly my idea…” Galdor nodded seriously.

 

“Good, tell Miklovand and Holgailion to gather their best men.” Thranduil demanded rubbing his palms together.  

 

The Steward seemed doubtful for a moment. “I was planning on it to be more secret.” He said to Thranduil’s questioning look.

 

“Why?” Thranduil asked a bit sheepishly. “They are people we trust.”

 

“I know…” Galdor sighed. “But the less people we tell; the less the risk of being out.”  

 

“Then what do you suggest?” the King asked.

 

“I will take a legion and do this alone.” The Steward said with a deep breath.

 

Thranduil’s heart sank in his chest from even the suggestion. He still remembered the day Galdor was shot by an arrow. The scene was still fresh in his mind like it was just a day ago. He would not have it again. “I will not let you go there alone.” The King said firmly.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor opened his mouth to argue but he was interrupted by a very heated Thranduil.

 

“We don’t know how many men there are, how well they are armed.” Thranduil said frantically. “I’m not sending you alone with only a legion.”

 

“But…” the Steward tried again.

 

“Forget it Galdor.” Thranduil said in a tone that left no room for argument. At first it seemed as if the Steward wanted to protest again but then he nodded his agreement silently. Thranduil felt relief wash over him now that he knew Galdor would not do anything foolish. His worried were less knowing that Miklovand and Holgailion would be going too with their soldiers.

“Take Erhan as well.” He added on second thought.

 

The Stewards wrinkled his nose as if they were talking about a disgusting insect. “Why him?” he asked.

 

“He’s a good warrior.” Thranduil shrugged, surprised that he had to remind something so obvious.

 

“That doesn’t make him experienced.” Galdor said. “He’s too young for this…for all this responsibility you’ve given him.”

 

 “You were almost the same age when I made you my hand.” The King reminded a soft smile playing on his lips.  


“You had known me all your life.” Galdor said a bit frustrated. “You trust him too much Thranduil.”  


“Do you know how many people always told me that I trusted you too much? But I did not listen.” Thranduil said a bit more seriously. The conversation had turned in to a way he had not predicted and did not fancy.

 

“That’s because I _gained_ your trust!!!” Galdor exclaimed exasperated.

 

“Yes you did.” Thranduil raised his voice in return. “But that doesn’t mean others can’t. “

 

Galdor’s face lost all color and he looked as if he was slapped in the face. He seemed like he had realized something he had been blind to for centuries. Thranduil was even more surprised to see such strange reactions from the Silvan. “So for you I’m no different from others…” Galdor breathed, seemingly having problem inhaling.

 

Thranduil hardly suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Galdor was just taking things too seriously and the Sindar’s mind was too cloudy to be able to think straight and answer him shrewdly enough.

“I didn’t mean that.” He said.

 

“But you strongly implied it…” The Steward said. The betrayal in his eyes told Thranduil how dire the matter had become.  

 

“Galdor…” he started as he took a step towards the Silvan while searching in his hazy mind for words to tell the Steward he was getting it all wrong. But the King froze when Galdor took a step back as if to keep their distance.   

 

“I will inform Miklovand and Holgailion tomorrow.” The Silvan said formally. “I’ll take Erhan with us as well as my King wishes.”

 

Since the day he had befriended Galdor, Thranduil had asked him to put aside the formalities and titles. The Steward knew how much it annoyed the King to be addressed formally by him and the Silvan occasionally teased Thranduil by calling him with his titles. It broke Thranduil’s heart to hear him say it. What was worse was that the Steward knew how much he hated it. “Why do you talk like that?” Thranduil moaned desperately. “Don’t do this…”

 

“I just realized my place in your heart, makes me think how inappropriate I have been all these years, my King.” Galdor said in an unmercifully strict tone that cut deep into Thranduil’s soul.

The Silvan then bowed slightly and turned to leave.

 

“Galdor don’t go” Thranduil demanded and he hated how it sounded like he was begging. “no…don’t leave…” he pleaded but it was as if the Silvan could not hear him. To Thranduil it was a total nightmare to see his Galdor not responding to him. It scared him and angered him to great extent. He just wanted to keep the Steward there and shake some sense into him and before he could stop himself he had said it. “You are not dismissed.”

 

The order hung in the air as the Silvan froze, his back still to Thranduil. Thranduil gasped realizing that he had indeed treated his friend like some lowly subject. His own voice had seemed unfamiliar to him. The Steward turned then; like a soldier being summoned by his superior. His eyes were empty and cold. Thranduil hated the way Galdor knew he was punishing the Sindar but he was beyond caring. He had upset the Silvan for some reason and he needed to make it alright. 

 

“You’ve always been different for me.” The King said, swallowing his pride.  

 

Galdor gazed at him emptily. “Am I dismissed now my King.” The Silvan asked icily as if he had heard nothing.

 

Thranduil’s words had seemingly fallen on deaf ears. He felt like a captain with his ship sinking under the ocean, like a king losing his land to enemy. The Sindar felt defeated and at that moment he had no energy left to make Galdor understand. To Thranduil the Steward was picking on mattes that were obvious. The King on the other hand was a prideful elf. He would not beg the Silvan for some wrong he had not committed.

 

So Thranduil dropped himself on his chair and nodded, dismissing the Steward. Galdor bowed again, comically low. He left without another word. Thranduil sighed and rubbed his eyes. Bitterness still hung in the air. 

 

 


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter is ready! Some asked me how many more chapters I'm planning to write. Well I'm trying to wrap it up in 8 more so the first part of the series would be closed with 80 chapters. but that is of course if everything goes as planned. Then I will immediately start the second part.  
> I would also like to thank everyone who has read, kudoed and specially those who have commented.

Snow had covered everywhere. Fog made it hard to see even with their sharp elven eyes. With each breath moisture went down their throats and the air turned to a small cloud in front of their mouths. The night was freezing and the cold burned their bones as they waited hour after hour in the trees watching the cottage in the woods in an air of anticipation.

 

Galdor could feel the expectant eyes of the others on him waiting for an order. The silence was deafening. They were waiting for a single movement; a single twitch or a shadow behind the windows. But none came though light was visible behind the closed curtains. Something did not feel right. The silence was not right. It seemed as if death had befallen the isolated cottage.

 

“I think we should go in…” Holgailion whispered shifting on the branch he was leaning on.

 

“I agree…” Miklovand mouthed from another tree where a group of five were located.

 

 “It’s well past midnight.” Erhan said from a nearby branch, encouraging the others’ suggestion.

 

Galdor’s heart shivered inside his chest; from cold and from anticipation. It was true; they had waited long. No one came out and no one went in and it was well past the time their spy had said the group would gather in the house.

The Steward nodded and so the soldiers and captains descended the trees soundlessly like thieves in the night. They approached the house, running silently with their backs bent and arrows ready in their bows, held firmly by their sides. The soldiers took position around the house aiming at the windows and the door. Galdor and Holgailion lurked on either side of the front door, taking cover behind the wooden walls while Miklovand and Erhan skipped to the back.

 

One last time Galdor glanced at his companions. They all seemed ready and their rapid breathing showed their excitement. The Steward could not blame them; they were anticipating a fight after all. They did not need further orders. With a glance at Holgailion, Galdor positioned himself in front of the door, bow at the ready. With a forceful kick, the door opened, giving them access to the insides of the house.

 

“DON’T MOVE!!!!!” Holgailion shouted in practiced behavior of such missions. However no one came to their sight as they barged in, uninvited.

 

Galdor heard Miklovand and Erhan enter the house from the back door, shouting just the same as Holgailion. The four reached each other in a hall of the small house.

 

Without any need for orders they scattered, searching the cottage. They looked every corner and behind each door. The house was warm, indicating that not long ago people had been here. The torches were alight as well. Holgailion rubbed his finger on a surface. There was no dust but no residents either.

Galdor could feel rage taking over his senses. He rushed to the door and yelled at one of the soldiers.

 

“Search the surroundings…She might be around!”

 

“She’s not around here!”

Miklovands voice made the Steward turn inside. The Captain was standing in front of a table and had seemingly picked up a piece of folded parchment from there.

When Galdor approached him, Miklovand handed him the parchment with a flustered huff.

 

Written with a neat handwriting on the back was; _the Great Elvenking_

Inside was a short note for Thranduil.

 

Galdor looked up at Miklovand and he could see the knowing expression on his face. The Steward’s hands shook from anger. His insides burned with rage.

Holgailion approached them and glanced at the parchment over the Steward’s shoulder.

 

“She knew we were coming!” he gasped, stating what they all knew and had no need to be said aloud.

 

All Galdor knew the next moment was that he was screaming in frustration as he broke the furniture with his booted feet.

 

***

A freezing breeze hit Thranduil’s face as he stood on a round balcony in the corridors of the stronghold. The winter had proven itself vigorous and they were all forced to wear thick coats and furs; despite the fact that it reminded him too much of dwarves for his liking. But at that moment the Elvenking was not thinking of dwarves or their furs. He wasn’t even appreciating the fact that his architects had managed to carve balconies out of a mountain. His mind was occupied anticipating the mission he had sent his best men for. Galdor had banned him from going with them and he had not wanted to antagonize the already jumpy Steward. However now the King regretted his decision to stay behind. The comrades were late and Thranduil could only assume the worst.

 

Mars was bright that night and the stars twinkled in the late night sky waiting for the faint morning light to chase them away. Thranduil wondered in what positions would the stars be when his child would be born and will the celestial bodies have any influence on his baby’s character like the wise and the old said they would. A wave of fear ran down his spine. He wanted his child to be born in safety and prosperity. Prosperity; he could provide as the King. Thranduil had learned that abundance came with cleverness, hard work, right decisions and just a little bit of help from nature. However the Elvenking still had not found a way to ensure _safety_ for the latter was scarce in his land. Even if he could slaughter hundreds of spiders a day with the grace of his shrewd strategies and the loyalty of his captains and the bravery of his soldiers still the darkness spread in the woods. And even if he could keep the darkness at bay, there was still this single she-elf that had managed to hurt him more than the armies of Sauron. She had hurt his sister, tried to kill his wife and the elleth was probably behind his poisoning and the death of his daughter. Thranduil feared for the security of his loved ones and the safety of the child that was going to be his.

 

“Brother…”

 

Aleth’s warm voice came as a welcome surprise and the King turned towards the source seeing that his sister had entered the balcony clad in furs and thick robes. He smiled and opened his left arm and the Princess walked closer and settled on his side, his arm draped around her shoulder.

 

“Mustn’t you be attending to your pregnant wife?” she asked teasingly.

 

“She’s dreaming of the seventh sky by now!” Thranduil chuckled. It was common knowledge that Leuthil slept a lot these days quiet naturally for her pregnancy. “Why are you awake?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep…” Aleth sighed.

 

“Me too…” Thranduil said absentmindedly as he eyed the stars again.

 

“You’re worried aren’t you?” the Princess looked up.

 

“They’re late…” Thranduil nodded worriedly. “They had to be back days ago.”

 

“The roads are blocked by the snow…” Aleth justified in vain. “Perhaps they’ve been delayed by the weather.”

 

“Perhaps…” Thranduil sighed.

 

Aleth scanned her brother’s face. Though ageless as ever the line between his brows had deepened, indicating that how much indeed he frowned. His eyes held immeasurable concern. She patted his elbow tenderly.

“They’ll catch her…” she assured.

 

“She has roamed around freely too long…” Thranduil said. “I just need to know she’s in my grasp and everyone else is safe.”

 

Aleth nodded and thought for a few moments, her brow tied. When the silence stretched Thranduil got impatient. “What are you thinking?”

 

Aleth shifted her weight from one foot to the other, seemingly unsure if she should voice her thoughts.

“What are you planning to do with her if they catch her…?” she asked eventually.

 

If he was honest with himself Thranduil had not given the matter thought. He was so consumed by the thought of finding this _Malin_ that he had not thought about what he wanted to do with her afterwards. All the King knew was that he wanted her alive and he had emphasized it a thousand times for Galdor and the rest of them. Now that he thought of it the procedure was a bit complicated.

 

“She would have a fair trial…I would not be able to judge her since I am a plaintiff myself. The council would have to judge her…” Thranduil explained logically. Aleth felt his hold on her shoulder tighten as he continued. “But if she’d be found guilty, which I believe she would, her conviction is clear; either she would be sentenced to death or sent to Valinor for the judgment of the Valar.”

 

“Will you allow her to be sailed?” Aleth asked.

 

“I would use all my influence to have her executed…” Thranduil stated honestly. “She has hurt too many people, she doesn’t deserve to live…but if we kill her without a trial, it would be considered kinslaying and it would cause a disturbance; especially when she’s become quite well known.”

Thranduil let go of Aleth and ran a hand over his face as he sighed. “For now I just want to catch her…” he said. “I just want to look into her eyes and see who she really is. I want to know why she has this thirst to hurt me…”

 

Aleth nodded and snuggled closer to her brother. For a while neither said anything as they watched the starry night. Until Thranduil felt Aleth chuckle silently. He pulled back to see her face.

 

“You truly don’t know who she is?” she asked amused.

 

Thranduil opened his mouth to answer but Aleth chuckled again and raised her hand to silence him. “Of course, it’s not like you could remember all your lovers.”

 

“What does that supposed to mean?” Thranduil demanded with a fake offended expression.

 

“That supposed to mean that you had many many lovers brother!” Aleth giggled.

 

“Yes but I repented of my wrongs!” Thranduil argued raising both his hands to show his innocence. “I never even looked at a female horse after I met Leuthil!”

 

“I agree…” the Princess chuckled. “You’re completely henpecked.”

 

As if knowing what Thranduil would do Aleth ducked under his arm and tried to get away from his punishment. But the King was faster and he grabbed her waist and started tickling his sister to the ground. Their giggles filled the night air as the ancient siblings acted like the children they had once been.

 

***

 

It had stopped snowing the next day. Just as Thranduil walked past the stables a little further from the pitches where the stable boys allowed the horses to roam freely, he spotted a young elk grazing; _his elk_. The beast buried his nose in the snow as if looking for some remaining grass but Thranduil doubted he found anything. The King also assumed it was some kind of fun for the animal to wet his snout for Thranduil knew his elk was not hungry. He had barely reached the opening when the animal raised his head curiously, showing off his young and short antlers.

 

The elk shrieked when he recognized Thranduil and trotted towards him on his ridiculously long legs. Thranduil could not help but beam at the animal. The elk immediately started nuzzling his face like he had seen an old friend.

 

“Missed me?” the Elvenking asked running his hands through the thick brown winter mane. He pulled out a carrot and held it for the elk to munch on enthusiastically.

 

“He’s grown your majesty…”

 

Galion’s voice was amused when he addressed Thranduil and the King turned towards him with a smile.

“He has…” he agreed. “I’ll have them build a new stall for him.”

 

Galion nodded his approval. Thranduil caressed the elk for a while. The animal was satisfied with the attention he was receiving so he started licking Thranduil’s hand affectionately.

 

“Do you remember the first horse father gifted me?” The King asked after a time.

 

“She was a white stallion…” Galion said with a faraway look in his ancient eyes. “King Oropher wanted the best species for you.”

 

“Do you remember you made me a saddle because all the other saddles were too big for me?” Thranduil reminded.

 

“Yes…” the butler chuckled. “You were so young then…your mother disapproved with the horse so I made the saddle to sooth her concern. She feared you’d fall from such a height.”

 

Thranduil kissed the elk on his nose and turned completely towards the butler. “Can you make another…?” he asked.

 

“A saddle my lord?” Galion asked puzzled.

 

“A saddle to suit my elk…” Thranduil corrected.

 

“Of course my King…” the butler smiled.

 

Thranduil smiled with satisfaction as the elk nuzzled his ear. His merriment did not remain long however as the sound of riders approaching caught his attention. He then heard the noise of hooves on stone indicating that the riders had reached the courtyard and his heart skipped a beat. The King left the elk, ignoring the whine the animal made to protest his abandonment. Thranduil had no nerve to keep calm or keep his usual grace and patience as he ran towards the courtyard which had been wiped away from the blanket of snow.

 

To his assumption the lords and the soldiers with them had arrived. The first thing the King did on instinct was to count them. Relief washed over him when he realized they had all returned and they seemed uninjured. But no unfamiliar elleth was among them. Perhaps they had killed her, not managing to bring her alive. Immediately his eyes scanned the saddles but found no wrapped corpse upon them. He searched for the faces of the lords. They looked exhausted. Though they all bowed their head for him, none of them explained anything; none of them looked up in his eyes. They looked solemn and lost; like the survivors of a drowned ship.

 

The last one to arrive was Galdor. His black stallion was restless and thrashed her legs on the ground. Though normally a tender elf, the Steward had no forbearance to calm the beast as he pulled the rein rather harshly before he leaped down from the mare’s back and gathered the restless animal. It was then that he looked up at Thranduil. His brown eyes met the King’s and Thranduil read their utter failure in his hopeless orbs.

 

***

 

_I am the brisk of smoke in the air_

_I am the shadow that follows your trail_

_I am the wind that goes through your hair_

_Untouchable, unreachable, uncatchable_

_Try as you might but you cannot have me while I destroy you and everyone you ever loved…_

 

“Bitch!” Thranduil roared as he tossed the letter to a secluded corner of the study.

 

His whole body trembled with rage and helplessness. Galdor could feel the waves of anger coming from the King. He was not surprised when Thranduil cried like a mad man and threw the small table and the bottles on it to a nearby wall.

 

They were silent for a few moments after the bottles and crashed with a loud noise. Galdor allowed the story he was forced to retell sink and he watched Thranduil’s anger die down slowly like an exhausted fire. For a while the only sound between them was Thranuil’s heavy breathing as he rubbed his eyes, as if it would chase the bad news away.

 

“I’m sorry…” Galdor whispered, feeling horribly guilty for losing this opportunity.

 

Thranduil shook his head and tapped the Steward on the shoulder despite his own helplessness.

“It’s not your fault…” he sighed as he paced the length of the room. “Did you find anything in the house?”

 

“Nothing…” Galdor shook his head.

 

Thranduil bent down and picked the piece of parchment he had tossed in anger. He gazed at the letters written in the neat handwriting. Clearly it was the writing of an elleth; fine and clean. The letters seemed so familiar to him, like a scent of a person long gone. He could imagine the hands writing them as if he had seen those hands write; as if he could recall the manner they held a quill. Galdor’s call snapped him out of his trance.

 

“Thranduil…” the Steward croaked. “She knew we were coming…”

 

The King nodded. Galdor was probably right. “Do you think your spy has betrayed us?” he asked.

 

“I trust him with my life…” the Steward shook his head. “He will never betray us.”

 

“Then how did she find out?” Thranduil sighed.

 

“We have a spy among us Thranduil…” Galdor stated firmly.

 

“Only our trusted men knew about this mission…” Thranduil said frustrated. “Even the soldiers were not told where they were going!”

 

“Then we have a traitor among our trusted man!” Galdor insisted.

 

“I trust those lords Galdor!” Thranduil snapped.

 

“I no longer trust myself!” the Steward exclaimed. “How can you trust _anyone_?”

 

“Who do you doubt?” the King yelled back coming to stand inches away from Galdor. “Name them!”

 

“I don’t know…it could be anyone!” the Silvan said. “Miklovand…Erhan!”

 

Thranduil started laughing in a very hysterical manner. Galdor understood. It was hard to doubt the people around you. It was hard to believe they would hurt you. When Thranduil looked back at him his eyes were aflame.

 

“Let me remind you…” he said in a dangerously low tone. “Erhan went to Southernwood and killed an elleth he did not know just because I asked him to…he saved my wife and sister from being crashed under rocks…he _proved_ his loyalty to me!” the King took a step closer as he kept Galdor’s gaze. “…and Miklovand…as much as I dislike him, he is my step-brother…he loved my father, he loves Greenwood and he have always been a good captain even in his own twisted way.” Thranduil continued. “I don’t doubt them…just as you don’t doubt your spy.”

 

Galdor shrugged in a defeated manner. He looked exhausted, he could no longer think. Perhaps Thranduil was right. Perhaps he was over thinking. Maybe he had become paranoid. But then the Steward could not fathom why the nagging feeling did not leave his gut.

 

“Go Galdor…” he heard Thranduil’s tender voice. “Take a bath, and rest…”

 

The Steward nodded and turned. Dragging himself to the door he stopped before leaving.

“I’m truly sorry…” he whispered to Thranduil. “I failed.”

 

Thranduil looked at him, his eyes solemn. “I don’t blame you…” he said. “Think of it no more…”

 

But Galdor could not stop thinking about it and he could not stop blaming himself as he walked out of the door with slumped shoulders and a back bent by the heaviness of the weigh he was carrying mentally. He had wanted to bring the culprit to the King for many reasons. This elleth had conspired against the royal family whom Galdor served and owed. She was the mind behind the attack on the Queen and he loved Leuthil like his own sister. The traitor was also the conspirator of the attack on Aleth. The Steward shivered when he was reminded of that night. Though Aleth had miraculously survived, the after effects of what transpired that night still remained with her. Galdor had been the only one who had seen her sleepless nights and her fears and doubts. He had held her through them and every time he had wiped away her tears the Steward had made an oath to find the culprit and avenge her.

Beside all of these it was Thranduil he wanted to avenge. The elleth had hurt him; she had poisoned him and had bereaved him with the greatest pain ever. Rage ran through Galdor’s veins. Anyone who hurt Thranduil would have to taste the metal of Galdor’s sword. But it had proven itself harder than that.

 

The corridor towards where his and Aleth’s apartments were located seemed longer than before. The Steward felt relieved for some unknown reason when he saw the Princess standing at the end of the corridor seemingly waiting for him. She beamed when he approached and opened her arms for him. They embraced each other and Galdor sighed when her divine scent reached his nostrils as he buried his face in her golden locks. They held on to each other like that for a while until finally Aleth let go of him and took his hand, guiding him towards their chambers.

 

Galdor entered their bed chamber behind the Princess. The room was warm and the air was moist so Galdor knew that Aleth had the servants fill the bath before his arrival. He appreciated the gesture as his muscles were whining from days of abuse and neglect. Aleth walked behind him and took his robe off his shoulder. She tossed it in a basket before she took his tunic as well. When the Steward remained with nothing but his breeches on she took the basket away for the maids to wash later.

 

Meanwhile Galdor walked to the bathing chamber. Not able to resist the tempting water he got rid of his breeches as well and sunk in the steaming bath with a sigh. The water engulfed him and relaxed his body. But his mind still lingered on the mission he had planned so obsessively and had failed so miserably. The Steward was so drowned in his misery that he did not notice when Aleth entered the bathing chamber and sat behind him on the stone bath. Her hands found his tense shoulders and massaged the knots there tenderly.

 

“We failed Aleth…” he whispered, needing to talk to someone about how he felt.

 

“I heard…” she said and Galdor knew how much she tried not to sound disappointed.

 

“I just want this nightmare to end…” he sighed and closed his eyes.

 

Then the Steward felt Aleth’s arm encircling his neck. She kissed his cheeks and lips. It wasn’t passionate or lustful; it was almost chaste. But it seemed like a promise, that the nightmare would eventually end.

 

***

 

Thranduil kept silent as he entered the audience pavilion of the training pitch that afternoon. The field was empty and covered in snow. However the Queen was there. Thranduil was informed by Liadan that Leuthil had gone training; which had taken the King by surprise, since he did not know his wife had any knowledge of combat beside the usual simple self-defense most Silvan knew. In fact it made him wonder where she had learned her skills from.

 

Judging from her movement her training had been fresh, since she still made clumsy moves with the sword and her foot work had place for improvement. However now that the King was watching her aim arrows at a target, he had to admit he was impressed. Without exception her arrows found the heart of the target which was much more than what Thranduil could say about experienced soldiers.

 

Eventually after hours of watching he went down to her. She heard him approach and turn. Thranduil saw a flash of surprise pass her eyes but she recovered soon and smiled.

 

“I didn’t see you come…” she said, her cheeks flushed from both the exercise and the cold.

 

“I didn’t know you knew how to fight…” Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

 

“I learned it in Lorien…” Leuthil said.

 

To that Thranduil wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure if I want to know who you learned from!”

 

Leuthil chuckled but said nothing. She looked at Thranduil and seemingly found how sad and distressed he was. “What’s wrong love?”

 

Thranduil sighed. He didn’t have to say anything as the look of realization settled on the Queen’s expression.

“She fled didn’t she…?” she stated more than asked.

 

“She wasn’t there to begin with…” Thranduil shook his head. The air was too heavy for him to breathe. He feared; for his loved ones. He was scared more than he dared to admit. The King had never felt this vulnerable. It felt like trying to fight a ghost when its sword cut him but his only passed through its body leaving him unharmed; like fighting a battle blindfolded.

Leuthil’s soothing hand on his arm brought him out of his thoughts. To his surprise she was smiling.

 

“It will be alright, you’ll find her…” she whispered, though Thranduil was not sure if she believed what she was saying.

 

“She’s like a shadow…” the King sighed. “I feel we can never catch her.”

 

“Don’t say that…” Leuthil cupped his face tenderly, making him look into her blue eyes. “These bad days will pass.”

 

“Then why do I feel like they’re here to stay!” Thranduil nagged liked a child.

 

“Because the hardest fights are given to the strongest soldiers!” she said smiling.

 

To her smug expression Thranduil raised his eyebrows making them both chuckle. He suddenly realized once again how much he loved the sound of her laughter and he adored how her eyes narrowed to a line when she laughed heartily. Her whole being gave him some kind of a feeling he had never been able to describe; like the warmth of a glass of hot milk in the heart of winter spreading in his veins, making him feel like home. Before he knew Thranduil hugged her tight. She giggled but then relaxed into his embrace. He buried his nose in her dark hair so unlike his own. Leuthil was the only reason Thranduil still believed in miracles. When they broke apart he still hadn’t had his fill of her scent but the Queen had a mischievous expression on her face.

 

“I challenge you to a sword fight Elvenking…” she said.

 

“You’re pregnant!” Thranduil said sheepishly as if her slightly swollen belly was not reminder enough.

 

“That would be your problem!” the Queen smirked.

 

Thranduil had not argument against that statement.

 

***

 

A month after the failure of the mission no one really spoke of it anymore, no matter how much of a painful reminder the mocking letter resting on Thranduil’s desk was. He had placed it there intentionally, to remind himself that he had an unclosed business to go back to soon. But the elleth had kept a low profile since then and they had been forced to return to their routine duties. A kingdom would not run by itself after all. 

 

Passing of another month meant thirty days closer to his awaited child and Thranduil could not help the excitement that twisted his stomach as he was working on some trade agreements Galdor had brought in the morning. Time past slow for the King and he could not wait to hold his and Leuthil’s baby.

 

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts and he bid the person enter. Erhan opened the door and walked inside. He had heavy cloaks on and snowflakes were visible in his hair a proof of the heavy snow outside.

 

“My King!” he greeted as he strode towards the desk. “I brought the reports on the condition of the roads you had asked for.”

 

Thranduil hummed taking the parchment from the Silvan. “Did our female soldiers receive their winter uniforms…” he asked as he studied the report.

 

“Yes my Lord…” Erhan said. “They are really excited and happy.”

 

“Good…” Thranduil smiled and placed the paper on his desk. But Erhan was still standing there. The King looked up at his sentry. The young one seemed to want to say something to him. “Is there anything else…?” Thranduil asked.

 

“There is something I’d like to show you my King…” Erhan said at last.

 

“Alright!” the King said as he rested his elbows on the desk, curiosity creeping inside him already.

 

Erhan looked excited as he trotted to the door and opened it. Thranduil saw an object behind the door but he could not tell what it was until Erhan pulled it inside and placed it in the middle of the room. Thranduil rose from his seat in awe. It was a cradle, made of wood. In fact it was the most beautiful cradle he had ever seen.

 

The King circled his desk and came in front of the thing. Erhan followed him with his anxious gaze.

“I…I wanted to give you a gift for the birth of your child my Lord…” the sentry explained nervously rubbing his hands together. “I made this but I was too excited to keep it to myself.”

 

Thranduil kneeled in front of the cradle, still too awed to say anything. It was painted a deep green that made it look like velvet. On the wood there was carvings of leaves, flowers and even a deer. The cradle had a handle for the caretaker to rock it and even a place to hang toys from.

 

“You made this yourself?” Thranduil breathed as he ran his fingers on the carvings.

 

“Yes my King…” Erhan replied anxiously.

 

“I have no words to describe it…” the King said as he finally rose to his feet. He looked up at his sentry hoping for him to understand what he felt. “Thank you…”

 

It seemed to be enough for Erhan as he grinned sheepishly. The sentry blushed when Thranduil squeezed his shoulder in appreciation and he dropped his head shyly.

Another knock on the door broke the moment and Galdor popped his head inside.

 

“Thranduil; I…” he stopped midway when he saw Thranduil was not alone and yet the King did not miss his cold gaze as it fell on Erhan. “I’m sorry, I thought you’re alone.”

 

“Come Galdor…” the Sindar invited jubilantly. “Come take a look at this.”

 

Galdor obeyed. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him. The Steward approached as he observed the cradle in the middle of the room suspiciously.

 

“Erhan has made it for my baby…!” Thranduil explained, not hiding his excitement. He wanted the sentry to know he appreciated his time and effort and that his gift was truly great.

 

Galdor’s gaze on the cradle was cold and even a bit criticizing but he gathered himself and smiled at Erhan.

“It’s beautiful…” he acknowledged. “You are truly talented Erhan…”

 

“Thank you Lord Steward…” Erhan said modestly.

 

Satisfied with this civilized interaction, Thranduil approached the sentry again and placed his hand on his elbow. Erhan looked up in his eyes and Thranduil hoped he would indeed see the appreciation. Thranduil could feel Galdor’s stinging gaze where his hand rested on Erhan’s elbow. “Thank you Erhan…I would never forget your kindness my friend.”

 

Erhan grinned. He bowed at the King and nodded at Galdor before he walked to the door and went outside, closing the door.

Thranduil observed the cradle appreciatively. “It’s indeed very beautiful.” He said unable to hide his excitement.

 

“Check it for poison first…” Galdor said dryly before he could stop himself.

 

It took Thranduil a moment to sink the sentence in and it angered him. In fact it sent him afire with anger. The Steward was bringing the shit out of it. “What does that supposed to mean?” Thranduil snapped.

 

“It’s supposed to warn you to be careful…” Galdor said sharply. “Have you forgotten how we had to burn the previous cradle, fearful of it to be toxic…?”

 

Thranduil strode to him with long strides and stood dangerously close to Galdor making the Steward look small. “Believe me Galdor…” he hissed, eyes wide with anger. “I _do_ remember.”

 

They glared at each other for long moments. Normally Thranduil never became angry from Galdor and even if he was occasionally irritated, his annoyance passed easily. The King loved Galdor more than that. But the Steward was crossing his limits with his jealousy and possessiveness. Thranduil’s patience was over.

 

“Why have you come?” the King asked sharply. “Besides ruining my momentary happiness that is!”

 

Galdor seemed taken aback. Clearly the Steward had not anticipated Thranduil’s well known wrath directed towards himself and now he assumed it dangerously close. His face took on a less hostile and calmer expression.

 

“I’m just trying to protect you…” he said logically. 

 

“Then don’t…” Thranduil exclaimed. “I’m not a child Galdor. I’m not a glass doll…for Valar’s sake, I have fought battles…I have survived centuries…I don’t need your protective paws on my head!”

 

Galdor was silent. He said nothing. It somehow angered Thranduil even more. The indirect mention of his dead daughter and that day they had burned her cradle had triggered his anger. He had never thought to feel like this but at that moment he just wanted the Steward to leave him be.

 

“Why did you come?” he asked again.

 

As if snapped out of a trance, Galdor handed him a bunch of papers. “Reports on the supplies…” he explained briefly.

 

Thranduil snatched the parchments out of his hand. Fire shooting from his eyes. “You may leave…” he dismissed coldly as he turned towards the desk and dropped the reports on it.

 

“Galdor…” the King called before the Stewards could leave. He heard Galdor stop midway. The bitterness was heavy between them. “Treat Erhan as you should…I don’t want rupture between my men because of your stupid jealousy…”

 

Galdor said nothing. After a few moments Thranduil heard him shuffle and the door closed.

The King sighed. He picked the bottle of wine and poured himself a generous amount. He didn’t like fighting with Galdor. In fact he hated it. Now that the Steward was gone, Thranduil wanted him back. People called them brothers but Thranduil knew it was more than that. They were like different organs of the same body. Thranduil downed the goblet in one attempt and placed it back on the desk.

 

Before the temptation to pour himself another, the King fled his study. He grabbed himself a warm cloak and put it on as he walked outside the gates. The freezing wind soothed his burning mind a bit as he walked towards the graveyard.

 

No one knew where the King usually spent his moments of weakness. He never mentioned that he tended to go to Haron Hollow and visit the grave of his daughter. He didn’t want Leuthil to be reminded of those days and he didn’t want the others to fuss, so Thranduil kept it to himself.

He reached the grave soon. He wouldn’t call it a grave, it was more a small piece of stone really. No child deserved to be buried. Children had the right to live and play, to see the care of their parents and the kindness of friends. Children must never be involved in the filthy world of adults. They should not be victim of adult conspiracies.

 

The snow was wiped away from the grave. Thranduil guessed Leuthil came here without telling him as well. He kneeled in front of it and ran his hand on the stone. Already his nerves were soothed.

 

The graveyard was silent as the snow fell in white lines to the ground. It was a beautiful winter. But the air was heavy with anticipation, as if it was pregnant of an event. Thranduil could feel the tension of the forest. He could hear the trees whisper. It was a little distance to the edge of the forest where the woods were more cramped. Thranduil could hear their chatter but he could not understand what they were saying.

 

Like a curious stag the Sinda rose to his feet and sniffed the air. His connection to the forest was enhanced and dragged him towards the woods. He didn’t feel danger, just thrill and the anticipation of the trees for him to come close. As he approached the edge of the forest he saw something. He more felt the movement before seeing it. Going closer he saw it was a bundle of blankets and it was moving. Thranduil gasped when he saw the small baby wrapped inside, abandoned in the chill of winter.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and reviews and critics are appreciated very much. They keep me motivated to continue :D


	73. Chapter 73

Spring brought a new life to the elven stronghold. The last months of coldness had rolled away for Thranduil as his days were swept by his kingly duties and of course looking for the parents of the 6 month child he had found in the woods by accident. After a few weeks of searching and failing to find the child parents they had decided to choose a name for him for now. They called him ‘Kian’ now. The boy was Silvan. One could easily tell from the fine red hair growing on his head. He had hazel eyes that rarely cried. In fact he was a happy child considering the circumstances. 

Thranduil had seated him on his desk at the moment. 8 months old now, Kian easily kept himself straight and cooed nonsense that Thranduil loved as he observed a trade agreement. At moments like this he was tempted to call off the search for the child’s parents and keep him for himself. In fact many had told him to do so. Leuthil and Aleth happily looked after him with the help of the maids. However Kian spent most of his time with the ellons. He was like a toy they had found to shower with affection. Aleth had told him a thousand times to call off the search. She believed the child had probably been unwanted or that his parents had likely sailed. Her reasoning was logical but Thranduil hated the way he felt history was repeating itself with him. His father too had found Miklovand in the woods. Thranduil could not count the times he had wished Oropher had not found the pest. Miklovand had never become his brother. He was his competitor. Thranduil did not want this to happen to his unborn child. But Kian was too cute to deserve comparison with Miklovand. 

“So you think we should accept this trade agreement with Lorien?” the King asked the baby as he sat back on his chair. 

Kian looked at him intently with smart eyes. He was chewing on his fingers seriously and the frown on his brow made him look very business-like, like he was truly considering the deal. 

“I know!” Thranduil pestered. “I kind of dislike the Lady too…she thinks she’s the most beautiful, wise elf that ever existed.” Kian nodded his head in that ridiculous way babies did. Thranduil looked up at him hesitantly. “But it’s a good deal! I think we should take it…” he sighed. 

Kian suddenly started babbling and clapping his little hands excitedly. Thranduil chuckled.   
“I take as a yes!” the King smiled as he signed the deal and sealed the parchment. 

“Are you talking to yourself?” 

Thranduil had forgotten he had left the door open for some fresh air so when Miklovand addressed him the King almost jumped. Kian turned his head with a speed that for a moment Thranduil feared he might fall from the desk and he placed his hand on the baby instinctively but Kian was to occupied clapping and laughing as he seemingly welcomed Miklovand.

“No!” Thranduil said in mock seriousness. “I was consulting our experienced politician here!”

Miklovand smirked. The kid had lightened the normally suffocating air between them. The Captain walked towards the kid as he addressed the little one who was looking at him with huge eyes.   
“AAAAh I hear the Woodland will fall without your smart policies master Kian!” Miklovand snickered as he swept the child in his arm and threw him in the air, catching him. Kian giggled madly. 

Thranduil fought the urge to take the baby away in fear that Miklovand might accidentally drop him. But the scene warmed his heart. He had never seen his step-brother so playful and easy. Thranduil disliked the Captain but he always remembered how his father loved the black haired elf. The King wanted Miklovand to have a happy life and settle down. But it seemed that the Captain had resolved to a lonely life. 

“You’ll make him puke like he did yesterday at some point if you keep that up Captain!” 

The comment came from Galdor who had entered the study soundlessly while Miklovand was still throwing the giggling child in the air. At last the Captain caught Kian for the last time and set him on his hip casually. Behind Galdor, Thranduil saw Aleth. She knocked lightly on the door to announce her entrance. Thranduil realized how much the baby had busied them more than they normally were. 

“I came to see if you’ve fed Kian?” she asked when all the attention was on her. 

The child started cooing while he stretched his little arms towards her seemingly seeing Aleth as the source of food. The three ellons looked at the Princess sheepishly as if they had never heard a baby should eat as well. 

“I might as well remind you that your doll needs to eat, sleep and shit as well as play.” She grumble as she crossed the room and snatched the baby out of Miklovand’s arms who looked like a child who had been unjustly deprived of his favorite toy. 

The Princess huffed angrily as she shifted the baby on her hip and walked away without another word, leaving the ellons dumbfound.   
Galdor was the first one to recover as he closed the door and handed a parchment to the King as if suddenly realizing the realm would not run by itself. 

“The report on the spiders that you’d asked.” He explained briefly. 

2 months had done nothing to warm up the bitter relationship between the Steward and Thranduil. They talked as little as possible and only about necessary matters. Galdor even evaded the King’s look and Thranduil was too proud to even acknowledge it. If the Steward was stubborn, Thranduil was the most headstrong being that ever lived. So the cold war went on. Many had noticed how cold the relation between the King and his first hand had become. Rumors had started to scatter that Galdor had lost the King’s favor. Some of his enemies even hoped for his removal. But the Steward did his job without listening to said talks and Thranduil also kept their relationship cold and highly professional. Besides the King had more urgent matters at hand. 

With the coming of spring, came the breeding of the animals and the creatures of the forest and there for several new nests of huge spiders. These nests would be full of baby spiders by now, which would then turn into hundreds of gigantic adults to roam around his forest and feed on the innocent creatures. The King could not hope to destroy them all and it had to be done in a long time program. But as the report said there was one big nest too close to the capital for Thranduil’s liking. 

“How many spiders have been spotted in the nest...?” the King asked. 

“At least 40…” Galdor replied. “There are two females…probably the mothers.”

Thranduil shuddered from disgust but did not comment as for some twisted reason the sex scene of giant spiders shaped in front of his eyes. 

“Erhan, Galdor and I are going…” Miklovand said. “We are each talking 5 men, I think it’ll be enough…” 

“I coming too…” Thranduil said, placing the paper on the desk. 

Galdor huffed and looked away but said nothing. Miklovand raised his eyebrows but he too did not protest. Satisfied the King fought back a smirk. He had been captive of his won stone wall for long. He needed to stretch his muscles a bit. “We’ll leave after the spring festival at dawn…” he announced and dismissed the other two. 

Miklovand walked out. Galdor lingered by the door looking as though he wanted to say something but at last he seemingly decided against it as he left with no word. 

Thranduil tried to get back to work but he found himself reading each line of the treaties five time and not understanding a word. The excitement of a field activity ran through his veins. He felt like the first time he had gone with a patrol. In fact it was indeed the first time he was going to fight without his left eye and that made anticipation run in his body. 

The King finally decided that he could not focus on the pile of parchments on his desk so he rose from his seat and walked out of the door. On his way to his chambers he saw Daitrid who informed him that again the search for Kian’s parents had failed. Thranduil could not decide if he was happy or sorry about it. 

He went inside his chambers and immediately spotted Aleth and Leuthil sitting in the balcony, enjoying the fresh air. Kian was sound asleep on Aleth’s lap seemingly having his afternoon nap after eating. The elleths looked up at him. They both offered him a smile as neither could move. Aleth feared waking Kian and Leuthil’s tommy was to round and big to move easily anymore. Thranduil kissed her hair and then leaned on the doorframe gazing at the baby on his sister’s lap. 

He did not know what he was supposed to do. As the King Kian was his responsibility but that did not mean he had to keep the child in his custody. He could give him to one of the families who could not have children or those families who were so rich they could handle another kid. Thranduil knew he could take care of the child from afar; make sure he had a good life and that he got all the care and education he needed. But Thranduil had become attached to the baby. He had even named the kid himself. 

“What’s wrong?” Leuthil asked in a whisper, trying not to wake Kian. 

“We failed to find his parents again…” Thranduil sighed. 

“I think you’re searching in vain…” Aleth said. “Parents who abandon their children are either hiding or have already sailed.”

“What monster would do such a thing…?” the Queen shook her head. 

“I can give him to a willing family…” Thranduil finally voiced his suggestion. 

The Queen and the Princess looked wrecked by the mere suggestion.   
“I could look after him…” Aleth suggested. 

“I know what you fear…” the Princess continued. “I will not let him become Miklovand…he will not become a rival against your child.”

Thranduil thought for a while. But he had to admit his mind was blank. He wanted to keep the cute one forever. But he was a father to be and it would be a lie if he said he did not fear. 

“I promise brother…” Aleth tried again. 

“Alright…” Thranduil sighed at last rubbing his eyes. 

He chuckled when Aleth and Leuthil squeaked with excitement startling Kian awake and making him wail like the world was about to end.

***  
The spring festival was held vigorously. Sometimes the Elvenking thought these feasts were a bit too much and the money used on them could be more useful on other matters. Greenwood after all had many expenses and she needed much more investment on military to keep it constantly at the ready. But as the King now watched his merry and jubilant subject getting drunk and dancing like it was the last day of their lives, Thranduil felt these easy hours were welcome and at times necessary for his people who led a hard life. 

The Elvenking’s own mood however did not match the one of his subjects. He was worried and yet excited about their expedition tomorrow. They were to leave at dawn and everything was ready for their departure. The location of the nest was clear and they would probably be forced to spend a night out in the woods, not that Thranduil had any complaint. He loved to spend time outside for as much as possible but the King had a pregnant wife at home. His eyes drifted to Leuthil who was sitting next to him, her big belly hidden under layers of royal clothing. 

“When will you leave…?” she asked, sipping from her goblet which Thranduil knew contained water. 

“At dawn…” the King replied sipping from his own goblet that contrastingly contained delicious wine. 

He hated the concern that creped its way to her eyes and the way she downed it and said nothing. The King detested making her worried. He took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. She gave him a smiled and blushed when he stole a brief kiss from her lips in front of the huge crowd. 

“I shall retire…” she sighed and rose with difficulty. 

The Queen walked away, the subjects stopped their dancing and bowed to her when she passed them. Thranduil saw how weary she was and he was not sure if it was because of the growing infant or it was his doing. 

Left alone Thranduil entertained himself with observing the party before him. The King’s eyes went to Miklovand who was wooing a blond elleth. Thranduil knew she was the daughter of one of the highest lords of the court and the man was known to be super protective and prejudiced and on the contrary her daughter was of easy virtue. The father however thought her daughter was the most innocent elleth that ever existed. Thranduil chuckled at the trouble Miklovand would fall into if the elleth ended up in his bed. The Sindar could even imagine the scene where the prejudiced father found the two in the Captain’s bed. He could imagine Miklovand’s face vividly. He then chastised himself for being such a gossiping King. He looked away from the scene and then found Holgailion slipping out of the back door with someone. Thranduil could swear it was an ellon. This time he had to hide behind his goblet to hide his amusement. Holgailion was just as tall as him, with shoulders twice as wide and hair as black as night with a deep voice that could move mountains. The King was greatly surprised and yet amused to find out his tendency towards males. Thranduil found himself wondering how the positions worked for them.   
When he realized what dirty things he was thinking of the King bit the inside of his cheek to punish himself. He was tasting blood when his eyes fell upon Galdor. Aleth had left a while ago and the Steward was alone. At that moment Thranduil found Galdor looking straight at him. Their eyes met and his gaze was cold. They stared at each other for a few seconds as if both wanted to tell the other things that they could not voice. But then the Steward looked away as if he had seen nothing. Thranduil decided the feast has lost its fun and rose to leave. The dancers stopped and bowed to him as he left. He nodded and smiled at them, trying to leave as fast as possible without practically running so that they could go back to their crazy merriment.

The distant melody of the music echoed in the corridors as the King reached his quarters and entered his chamber. His eyes fell upon Leuthil who was standing in front of the mirror. She had pushed her night gown up revealing her round belly and was looking at the image critically. To Thranduil the scene was divine but he believed Leuthil thought otherwise if the frown on her brow was any indication. 

“You’re beautiful…” the Sindar breathed.

The Queen’s head shot up and when she saw him she tried to cover her body shyly, having trouble to do so as the garment was stuck over her swollen tommy. Thranduil approached him slowly. She finally managed to cover herself by the time he reached her, mumbling under her breath. 

“Why do you hide yourself from me?” the King asked cupping her fair face. 

“Because it’s ugly…” she muttered annoyed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Thranduil knew Leuthil had been feeling like this for the last few weeks. She had tailors make her dresses that hid the swell as much as possible and tended to avoid getting naked in front of Thranduil. The King had not mentioned it, deciding to give her some space. But he could not tell how wrong that statement was. Not only was she not ugly but Thranduil thought she was absolutely cute. Though the King wished he could erase the memories of her previous pregnancy in comparison she was much more beautiful than what she had been then. 

“You’re beautiful love…” he said. “And I think it’s absolutely sexy.”

Leuthil looked up at him furiously like he had suggested attaching Mordor with no army.   
“Don’t lie…” she hissed. “It’s absolutely grotesque…”

Thranduil chuckled and could not help hugging her despite the hardship her belly made. She wriggled and tried to get away but he was much taller and much stronger and the King knew her attempts of rejection were halfhearted. So at last she relaxed into his embrace and allowed Thranduil to hold her like that for a time. He kissed her hair and ran his fingers through her dark locks. When she looked up at her she already looked better as she gazed at him with darkened eyes. 

“Will you miss me while off defending the stronghold?” she asked in a voice that made things happen in his breeches. 

“I shall…” he smirked. 

“Then promise me you’ll return quickly…” she kissed his chin where she could reach. 

“I promise.” He whispered and leaned for a more deep and passionate kiss. Already Thranduil could smell danger in the air. 

 

***

The warriors were sent away with warm embraces and lingering kisses. People of Greenwood had learned loss and they knew how easily one could fall prey to the venomous spiders that had infected their forest. The fighters had settled themselves upon the branches, hidden expertly by the help of their green uniforms; bows at the ready and pointed towards the nest that housed many of those creatures. As they gazed upon the descendants of Shelob the memory of the embraces and kisses lingered in the air for all knew that only the lucky ones would go back to beauties such as this. 

As he had his legs settles on a thick branch and hands hanging from another above him, Thranduil could hear the whines of the trees. He could feel as if inside himself how sick the woods have become from the thick webs and the presence of the foul creatures. The King looked up from the huge nest. All was ready. Breaths were held. A nod of his head was all that was needed for a dozen arrows to fly towards the nest and startle the silent residence. 

Wild screams of the monsters that were hit reached them. Before the spiders could gather themselves arrows were loaded and thrown again. Then like pus flowing out of a squeezed pimple spiders poured out of the nest and started scattering in every direction. Arrow after arrow was shot. Though it was hard to distinguish the black hair of the creatures with the dim woods Thranduil managed to hit his targets right; though many of the spiders took three or four arrows to die and soon none existed in the King’s quiver. 

Just as he was forced to take out his twin swords Thranduil heard the others do so as well and the sound of metal scratching over metal echoed in the forest as the one to one battle started. Swords were swung and flesh were cut. The King could no longer tell the condition of his comrades. All he could think of was slaughtering one spider after the other. 

Only in his worst nightmares had he seen such a thing. The long hairy legs, the black eyes and those things they had instead of a mouth; and once in a while he could get a glance at that venomous sting on their tommy. The King wondered how many females had been inside this nest to produce so many hideous children. He swung his sword on one particular large one, Thranduil could tell it was a male by its size and arrogance. His sword stuck the monster on one eye and his other blade cut one of the legs. The creature screamed and wriggled but the pain did nothing to dissuade it from its course. He attacked Thranduil on its seven remaining legs and knocked him over. Before Thranduil knew it, the monster was standing above him, its sting drooling with venom was above his face; the King was fast enough to shove his sword upwards in its body. The spider wailed in agony and twisted on the blade, impaling itself even more and ensuring its demise. 

But Thranduil’s gladness did not last long when the spider died on his blade and practically collapse on his body with its entire weight. Thranduil was fast enough to put his palm on the hairy stomach and keep the body up to avoid the sting to impale him. 

The dead spider was heavy and Thranduil’s arms were already weary from the battle. He could hear the fight still going on but he could not tell what had happened. He could not move the monster. His strength was not enough to push the creature aside and free himself from the trap. His arms started trembling under the pressure. He bend his elbows a little and pain shot through his arms. The sting was on inches away from his own belly and Thranduil did not know how much longer he could hold the monster up and avoid its fang from impaling him. 

Just on the second that Thranduil thought that his wrists would surly break, the weight was suddenly removed. Thranduil breathed again as he saw Miklovand shove the monster from atop him. The Sildar’s arms fell limp beside him before he forced himself to turn on his stomach and try to rise. The fight was not yet over. Immediately Miklovand’s arms circled around his waist and his step-brother helped him stand. 

“Are you alright?!” the Captain asked, panting.

Thranduil merely nodded and shot him an appreciative glance. He scanned the others. The spiders were almost finished. Some of his men were chasing after the ones that had gotten away and the others were finishing off the disgusting creatures. The King let out a deep breath in relief. 

Miraculously other than a few minor scratches no one had been seriously injured which was a rarity considering the number of the spiders they had dealt with. With new found energy they tended to the few injured and then they started dragging the corpses to a pile so that they could burn them.   
It was almost night fall when the pile of dead spiders were burned. They made sure no flames were left of the fire. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air but the woods already felt lighter. 

The group walked away from the scene as none of them wished to camp where the nest had been. They made a small fire in a clearing. It was too late to go hunting so they settled for the salted meat and nuts they had brought with themselves. Erhan even found some berries in the woods which were enough for everyone. 

The soldiers chatted merrily as they ate their small super. All of them were happy that the spiders were taken cared of, all were glad they were alive and well. Thranduil took advantage of his companions’ distraction and approached Miklovand. The Captain had already finished his food and was carving something out of a piece of wood with his pocket knife. Thranduil sat beside him and watched for a while as the Captain’s fingers worked skillfully. It reminded him of the old wooden horse his father had made for him long ago.

“What’s it going to be?” the King asked at last.

“A wolf maybe…” Miklovand said. 

“I can already see its ears!” Thranduil noted, pointing at the wood. 

Miklovand chuckled as he turned the piece in his hands, examining it critically. They sat in silence. Some of their companions had started singing around the fire. 

“I learned it from adar…” the Captain said softly, gazing at the wolf to be. 

Thranduil had guessed as much. “I’m sure one of us did…” he whispered. To that Miklovand gave him a twisted smiled.   
“Thank you…” Thranduil said after a few moments. “…for saving my life.”

“Wouldn’t suit a king to die crushed under a dead insect!” Miklovand said, Thranduil could see the twitch of his lips and the humor in his voice. It made him laugh. 

“Yes, I prefer to die in my bedchamber where I no Galion has cleaned from any spiders…” Thranduil said merrily. “So thank you for not letting me be crushed.”

“Don’t worry about it…” the Captain smirked, going back to his wooden wolf. “I’m sure you would have done the same.”  
Thranduil smiled. He liked these rare moments when he could talk with Miklovand without arguing or fighting or using their words as a sting to poison the other. Their moment however was broken when Erhan’s voice reached them from the other side of the fire. 

“My King, there are rumors that you have a beautiful voice for songs…” the sentry said, a hint of mischief in his tone. Thranduil felt the gaze of the others fall on him. 

“I’m sure they’ve exaggerated.” Thranduil tried to save himself from what was to come. 

“He knows many songs!” Miklovand said from behind him, encouraging the mischief in the soldiers’ eyes. The Captain ignore the King’s glare. 

The pleads started right after that. Thranduil saw Mikovand laugh at his struggle as he tried to dissuade the eager soldiers. He looked at Galdor pleadingly but the Steward just shrugged, telling him that it was his problem. At last the King was forced to sing for his rather young soldiers. He sang them the song dedicated to Beren and Luthien. With the Sindar and Silvan culture mixed for centuries all knew that song and some even accompanied him in some of the verses. Thranduil even treated them to a little melody by the harmonica Elrond had given him and he carried with him everywhere. He had finally learned how to elicit beautiful sounds out of it. Some others sang as well. Galdor sang an old Silvan song Thranduil had never heard before and one of the soldiers sang a short poem about love until all were too tired to stay awake a moment longer.

The night was tranquil. The guards watched over the camp in shifts but no danger came to them as the rest slept in their bedrolls. Thranduil was awake for a long time, gazing at the stars from between the branches. The notes of the songs sang that night still danced in his ears. The sounds of the forest calmed his spirit. The trees sang songs in whispers as if they were happy with the presence of the elves so close. 

Thranduil inhaled deeply, downing the scent of the forest. He wished he could always stay there, away from the stone walls of his stronghold. He remembered a time when woodelves actually lived in trees. They passed their lives living tranquilly in talans they built out on the woods. With Oropher’s arrival and the establishment of Amon Lanc some of them came to live in the capital and small villages. Yet many still remained deep in the forest. It was the darkness that descended in the woods that made the Silvan gradually move to the villages and then to the stronghold. They abandoned their simple and beautiful life in favor of security. One that Thranduil could scarcely provide, try as he might. It was in his rein that the forest fell into the shadow and Thranduil blamed himself for it though he knew he had done all he could. 

Thranduil did not know when he fell asleep but when he opened his eyes again it was dawn. The grey light of fresh morning announced a new day. The others were still sleep except Erhan and two other soldiers who were guarding the camp. Thranduil reluctantly left the warmth of his blanket. His bladder was too full to ignore. King as he was he still needed to piss. 

“Good morning my Lord…” Erhan greeted him as he approached. 

“Good morning…” Thranduil smiled. He then headed for a small slope that lead to the river. Erhan followed him automatically as was his duty as the King’s sentry. He knew however when to look away when Thranduil needed privacy to answer the nature’s call. When done the King headed for the river and washed his face and freshened up.

“Come…” he suggested as he picked his bow and quiver. “Let’s find some real breakfast.”

Erhan chuckled and followed him. Thranduil walked before his sentry. They talked little but it was not an awkward silence. The Sentry found a dear trail. Though Thranduil was reluctant to hunt down a dear for breakfast they started following it since they had nothing better to do until the others woke. Thranduil enjoyed Erhan’s presence. He already knew the Sentry’s family. Erhan’s father was one of the woodsmen that answered to Oropher’s call for war. Erhan was just as loyal as his father and his deceased brother. The King wondered if the young one had any other friends or if a lover awaited him anywhere. 

“Do you love anyone Erhan…?” he asked without turning around towards the Sentry. 

Inwardly Thrnanduil chuckled at Erhan’s silence that stretched for a few moments. He had after all caught the Sentry off guard. It took the Silvan several minutes to answer. 

“There is this elleth I’m fond of…” he answered hesitantly. 

Thranduil stopped in his trail and turned to look at the guard, a smile adorning his face.   
“Who is she?” he asked, feeling a little nosy but he couldn’t help it.

“You wouldn’t know her my Lord…” Erhan blushed. “Just a simple Silvan…”

“Do you intend to marry her?” the King asked.

“If she would have me, yes…” the Sentry blushed even further. 

“Good…” Thranduil grinned. Though he knew he would lose his sentry if Erhan married the King was extremely happy for Erhan. Someone like him deserved to have a nice family. He placed his hand on the Sentry’s shoulder reassuringly, making Erhan look up at him. “I know the condition of your family and of your father…” he said. “If you need anything; money or support, you need but ask.”

In Erhan’s brown eyes there was something that Thranduil could not name. Waves of twisted feelings lingered there as if the Sentry was happy and sad in the same time.   
“Thank you my lord…” the Silvan whispered, appreciation in his tone.

Happy with the result Thranduil smiled at his guard once again before turning his back to him to observe the forest. He scanned the woods, gaze roaming between the trees. Then once again he examined the dear trail. It was already late. Their companions were likely awake now and waiting for them to head home. They had no time to hunt anyway. 

“I don’t think we can find any game here…” Thranduil said without turning towards the Sentry. “Let’s head back.”

He turned from his left. His blind eye did not see what happened next but his sharp ears heard the swish of a blade cutting the chilly morning air. But he did not believe his ears and it was too fast for any order from his brain to reach his limbs. A hard strike to his neck shock him. But at first he could not register what it was. It took a few seconds for the sharp and unimaginable pain to shoot from where his neck met his shoulder. His eyes widened in shock. Erhan was standing in front of him, legs spread apart and his guard up. Through his blurry vision Thranduil noted the sheath where the Sentry kept his dagger was empty. 

The Sindar’s limp legs took him a few paces back. Clumsily he raised his trembling hand to touch where he thought he had been hurt in an attempt to believe what had just happened. his cold fingers grazed the blade that was warming up fast due to his blood that was pouring out of the cut. He could feel the metal in his body. He could smell the blood in his throat and he could not breathe. The river of blood that splashed out of his body was draining him too fast for his mind to respond but all Thranduil knew was that he needed to get away from Erhan. 

He stumbled backwards but his legs melted under him and Thranduil collapsed on the forest floor. He tried to drag himself away. The level of blood rose in his throat and poured out of his mouth. His head swirled and the forest danced in circles around him like people of a tribe dancing around a fire. Erhan stood above him, gazing at how he had stroke the King with his dagger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the last smooth chapter...action will come with the next :D  
> comments are appreciated very much!


	74. Chapter 74

Erhan had not wanted it to happen like this. He had wanted to finish this fast. The Sentry had no intention to inflect pain upon Thranduil, for deep inside he did not believe the Sindar deserved it. The King had been nothing but kind to him. But he had to do what had to be done and no matter the circumstances it was not easy to kill one who he had become somehow attached to.

As he had raised his hand with a firm grip on the dagger all his moments with the King had rushed back to him; the things he had come to gain from the blond and the trust the other had placed upon him. These thoughts had not been enough to sway him from what he had to do but enough to affect his senses and skills. His normally steady hand had swayed and his usually powerful blow had wavered causing him to miss the King’s heart which had been the original target of his weapon. The dagger had landed where Thranduil’s neck met the curve of his left shoulder, but the blow had been hard enough to push the blade far inside so that now only the handle was visible, popping out of the flesh mockingly; and evidence to the Silvan’s treachery.  

 

Erhan did not feel remorse but he did regret that he had to do this. But these were secondary thoughts as panic surged through him. He had not predicted this. The fear and shock paralyzed him as he watched his victim; unable to turn the events back and unable to take them forward and finish the King. He had not predicted those eyes to look upon him with so much betrayal.  

 

When the dagger had hit him, it had taken Thranduil a few seconds to realize what had just happened. It was natural. Who would think his loyal sentry would try to kill him. Thrandul had not seen the weapon coming since knowing the blindness of his left eye and using it to his advantage, Erhan had hit him from his left. When the events sank in Thranduil’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Erhan could see in the Sindar’s aquamarine orbs that he could not believe his eyes. After all he was the sentry who had help Thranduil’s recovery, had saved the lives of his wife and sister and had dragged him back from the hands of death a few times. The blond had taken a shaky and subconscious step back as he raised his hand and touched the dagger that had pierced his flesh, as if touching the wooden handle would help him believe. Blood dyed his clothes with a remarkable speed, it even splashed from the wound where it had probably hit more serious veins. Erhan wondered if he had hit his artery.

 

As if suddenly realizing the danger the Silvan could inflict, Thranduil stumbled a few steps back before his legs gave in under him.

When the King fell, Erhan’s heart fell with him. It was the feeling the silvan used to get when the men cut down the trees. He watched as that powerful, lean figure was brought down; those long legs crumbled under him like the limbs of a wooden puppet and then he collapsed on the forest floor like a tall, ancient beech cut down by the hands of the woodsmen; like a tree that was never meant to be brought down.

 

Sat on his legs which lay with strange angles, the King looked up at his sentry, eyes full of tears and breath barely coming. But his look was empty, like the gaze of the dead; as if he had chosen not to feel anymore…as if he could not bear the pain of this deceit. Erhan gathered his guts again. He had to finish this and the more he tarried the more pain Thranduil had to endure. He unsheathed his sword. Thranduil’s eyes twitched and his hollow gaze found the sharp blade. Erhan thought he saw a flash of longing in the Sindar’s eyes. Perhaps he too wanted this. Maybe he saw it as a means of salvation. It was easier after all; the sudden flash of a blade, a red splash of blood, a quick pain; and then nothing; infinite silence. It was easier than an eternity with the pain of this betrayal, the shame of being brought down by one of his own.

 

“I’m sorry…” Erhan rasped. He did not know why he said it. The Sentry just wanted to apologize for causing the Sindar this pain and for not being fast enough. For not making it easier. Tears were pooling in his own eyes, blurring his vision further. “I did not mean to pain you…I’ll end it now!”

 

He decided to shut up and actually end it. Thranduil’s eyes followed the blade until Erhan placed in on his neck. Then his eyes glazed up at him, blood poured out of his mouth. There Erhan saw a million questions and a defeated soul that broke his heart. Thranduil considered himself broken and overcome. The Elvenking that had survived the Last Alliance and the War of the Wrath and the deadly poison had no hope of escaping his treachery. Thranduil’s gaze held a plea for the Sentry to finish it faster and a choked moan escaped his slack lips. Erhan respected that even in this situation he was not begging to be spared but he was pleading to be released from this shame. The Sentry raised his sword.

 

“YOU BASTARD!”

 

Before he could registed the shout in a flash he was pushed away. At once he knew it was Galdor. The Steward dived for Erhan and pushed him away from Thranduil with his entire weight. They lost their balance and were both tackled to the forest floor, Erhan lost his grip on the handle and the sword slipped away from him. He was however a nimble soldier more than anything and before Galdor could gather his limbs the Sentry had gotten on his feet and set to flee with all the speed he could muster. Galdor was screaming orders and warning the others behind him but the Guard no longer heard what the Steward was saying. His mind was only set on running away and he managed an impressive distance until strong arms were wrapped around his waist from behind.

 

His own momentum and the backward force of Miklovand who had his powerful arms around the Sentry’s waist caused Erhan to swing in a full circle before hitting a tree with his face. The blow disoriented him for a few seconds, allowing the Captain to tackle him to the ground with his superior body. With his knee on Erhan’s back Miklovand kept him still until soon two other soldiers reached them, bringing ropes to bind the Silvan with. Erhan had no feeling about being caught. He had after all known that this would probably be his destiny, running was just a shot in the dark. As his face was pushed into the dirt he watched the rest of the group as they gathered around the King.

 

Galdor had managed to pull the dagger out, but Erhan could not say if it truly helped since now Thranduil’s flow of blood was unstoppable. Blood also poured out of the Sindar’s mouth and nose. Erhan could see his eyes were open but losing focus. Slowly he lost control over the illusion he always kept in place and in horrible slowness the scars appeared on his face as well. The Steward just shouted. He shouted orders at the soldiers and he shouted at Thranduil, begging him not to give in. For a moment Erhan’s heart swelled with an unknown feeling. He knew how Galdor felt. He knew how it felt to love so unconditionally. Galdor would probably fade if Thranduil would not survive this. Such a pity it would be for the Greenwood to lose a noble elf like him.

Erhan closed his eyes when Galdor took Thranduil’s limp body in his arms and wailed, like a brother losing his sibling or a young child losing his mother in a crowded market. 

 

***

 

_It was just supposed to be a childish game, a mischief of youth but it had turned out to be so serious. Taking his father’s horse was Miklovand’s idea. It was supposed to be a small bet. The loser had to carry the winner back to the palace on his back. Galdor had said not to take part in it. he had said it was not a good idea, that nothing good came out of Miklovand…but Thranduil had not listened, so high was his spirit and the his childish pride._

_But now he regretted it. His father’s horse was huge and Thranduil’s feet did not even reach the mare’s belly. Thranduil was a capable rider even in his young age, but to his horror he felt the saddle loosen under him. He could feel that the leather seat was not clinging to the mount’s body firm enough. The clinging noises now made sense, someone had unfastened the hooks of the saddle. Just like something the pest would do. It felt like betrayal. The mount had proven to be quite headstrong as well and now Thranduil could feel the control slipping from his little fingers. The horse had gone wild and was now running freely across the field. Thranduil could hear the stable boys shout from a distance. He could only cling on the mare’s neck._

_At some point the horse abruptly stopped. Thranduil thought he might slip off his neck. Then to his horror he stood on his back legs. The horse rose high and Thranduil felt something fall in his belly. His hold on the horse’s neck was lost. The Prince was sent up in the air. It took a few seconds to start falling down. It was like dying._

_He hit the ground hard, the bitterness of Miklovand’s deceit in his mouth. Thranduil heard his bones crack. It was like defeat. The angry horse rose to his back legs again. This time above Thranduil’s head. He knew the mare will land on his face with his hooves. Perhaps it was better than the shame of facing his father; the shame of being fooled by his brother. He saw Galdor then. The young lad reached him just in time and pushed the horse sideways. The mount neighed and ran off in the field. The last thing Thranduil felt was how broken and shameful he was. It was going to be a simple childish game it wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. Galdor gathered him in his arms. He was yelling for help when Thranduil lost consciousness._

 

Galdor strode down the corridors that descended towards the dungeons. Before going to Thranduil he needed to visit their prisoner. Erhan had annoyed him so much with his silence these past few weeks. Perhaps the news of Thranduil’s survival would change the sentry’s attitude.

The Steward was glad to see the guards standing strictly at the iron door. They bowed their heads for Galdor. The Steward motioned for one of them to open up the locks and the guard found a huge key among his set of keys. The lock opened with a loud noise and the guard swung the door open.

 

Galdor stepped inside the dark confines of the cell. The air smelled like moist and it was blindly dark if it wasn’t for the dim light coming from the open door. Erhan was hunched on the stone bench attached to the wall which was the only luxury of the cell. His clothes were the same outfit he had been in on the day they had gone hunting. But they had become dirty and they looked painfully similar to a rag. The thick iron lock around his ankle clanged when he moved his leg up the bench to huddle himself into a ball as Galdor approached him.

 

Erhan looked up, narrowing his eyes because of the light. The Steward wondered if with this condition Erhan was in, he still thought of his actions worth it.

 

“Good morning Erhan…” Galdor said.

 

Erhan frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Damn…” he cursed. “I thought it was night.”

 

Galdor smirked. It was hard to tell if it was day or night while residing in the dungeons. The former sentry had probably tried to keep the days in check but had failed.

 

“I should ask them to assemble a calendar for you…!” the Steward suggested looking around the cell as if he was truly deciding which wall was better for the purpose.

 

Erhan’s gaze was cold when he looked up at him again. The bruises and dried blood from their previous encounters were still visible on the sentry’s face and body. “Have you come here to torture me again?” he asked icily.

 

In a flash Galdor’s hand was around the Sentry’s neck pressing his throat to the wall behind him. He brought his face closer. “Your torture has just begun!” the Steward smirked. “The King survived your treachery and is well…”

 

Something changed in Erhan’s face. No one had told him that Thranduil was better so the news came as a shock to him. His dark eyes widened. But Galdor was surprised that he saw no trace of sorrow in them. He released the Sentry with a hard tug.

“Now that the King has recovered, the council will address your trial pretty soon…” Galdor continued as he walked to the iron door. “I suggest you cooperate…”

 

Galdor heard the doors being locked behind him as he left the dungeons, heading towards the royal chambers.

When he recalled the events of those days he could only compare it with the horrible weeks Thranduil had been poisoned. Thranduil’s unfocused eyes did not leave his mind and him losing the illusion of his face as he lost consciousness remained the main subject of the Steward’s nightmares for many nights after; that is of course if he could get a few hours sleep between visiting the fading King, regulating the affairs of the council and the realm and making sure the culprit was securely locked up. Above all, he had to make sure no one assaulted Erhan’s life since they were many vengeful elves who wished to murder him for trying to kill the King and almost succeeding. There was also riot and unease between the people and strong words were exchanged in heated arguments in the court. Many criticized the inefficient protection of the King and others asked for a decision to be taken for Southernwood since many considered Erhan their hireling though the former sentry was yet to confirm or deny this accusation.

 

They had taken Thranduil away from the scene with miraculous speed. Only one other time had Galdor ridden a horse with that speed and it was when he was riding to get Elrond from Lorien and bring him to the King which he considered a mercy from the Valar. The healers had done a miracle in stopping the flow of blood and closing the wound. Galdor was also proud of himself since he too had done a miraculous job in keeping a worried sister and a pregnant wife calm and out of the room while the healers tried to snatch Thranduil back from the hands of Mandos.

 Miklovand and the rest of the soldiers had stayed behind. The Captain had tried all the methods he had learned during his years to make the sentry talk but to no avail. He had trashed and hit him, and almost choked him in the cold river water, but Erhan had kept his mouth shut. So they had merely tied him and taken him back to the cave city where Galdor had used his own methods of torture to no avail. As nothing came out of the Sentry he was locked up in the dungeons under intense security. Still after almost a month he had not talked.

 

Meanwhile Thranduil’s situation had worn them down. For long days, almost a week the King had remained unconscious. The healers said it was for the loss of blood yet Galdor knew and the Queen agreed that the Sindar was not trying hard enough to survive. They had overheard the healers. They said it seemed as if Thranduil wanted to fade. Galdor wished he could forget the horror of those days. The way Leuthil ran left and right trying to busy herself broke the Steward’s heart. It was not fair on her. She was heavily pregnant, ready to start a new phase of her life with hopes and dreams and then suddenly some trusted person destroyed it all for no good reason. Though Galdor and Aleth tried to support her, she was alone and scared. Even little Kyan had sensed the solemnity of the situation and made a tantrum to be taken to Thranduil which of course was impossible. Thranduil’s wound after all was open and agape so sanitation was of most importance. Only Leuthil, the healers and Galdor visited the chamber under strict hygiene instructions.

But to their relief Thranduil had opened his eyes almost a week after the attack. News had traveled fast to friend and foe that the Elvenking had survived the paws of death once again. The mortal folk even said the Woodland King has become invulnerable. They had managed to quiet the council to some extend and the realm seemed to find some semblance of peace again. Galdor feared that their were dependent too much on the King.

 

But the best was their own happiness. Leuthil seemed to be jumping out of her own skin. She stayed with her husband the entire day and looked after him personally despite her inconvenient swollen belly. Kyan was also madly happy though he had no clue what was all the fuss for. He just never left the King’s bed. He had also transported his toys to Thranduil’s sheets but the King did not seem to mind as he was still sleep most hours of the day. Galdor too did not know what to do from joy but still he had not yet found the time to talk to Thranduil. He was extremely busy, taking the burden of Thranduil’s duties as well as his own. But yet again for almost two weeks Thranduil was unable to talk. The dagger had failed to pierce his throat but had managed to scratch and cut many muscles and had temporarily paralyzed his speech. Though uncomfortable from the painful wound that even burned him to eat, Thranduil was passing through a fast process towards health. It seemed to make everyone happy but his own. Strangely the Elvenking did not share the good spirit of the others.

 

The King embedded himself in his sheets, neglected his works and tried to extend the period of his recovery. Galdor could not tell if it was just a simple laziness or that Thranduil was hiding from the world that had been quite cruel to him.

 

This day the Steward had talked to the healers in the morning. They all agreed that despite the pain Thranduil was healthy enough to leave his bed, thanks to elven healing. Galdor deemed it necessary for Thranduil to get out of his chamber and busy himself with some light work since the Steward knew the worst enemy of the king’s health at the moment was his own thoughts and betrayed feelings. In his lonely hours Thranduil would pester the wounds of his heart and relive the pain of treachery and being lied to again, which in turn effected his health.

 

However the air in the stronghold seemed lighter and more jubilant as if the King’s recovery had effected the mood of the residents. It took the Steward a good while to reach the upper most part of the palace from the depths of the dungeons.

The Steward reached the room and knocked. No answer came despite the fact that he knew Thranduil was inside. He rolled his eyes and barged in. It was almost past noon but the curtains were closed and the room was utterly dark. He could see Thranduil still in bed, resting on his side with his back towards the door.

 

“You need to get up Thranduil!” Galdor declared with a joyful voice that contrasted badly with the solemn atmosphere of the room. “It’s a beautiful day!”

 

“Leave me be…” the Silndar moaned with his still strange croaky voice.

 

Galdor chuckled as he strode to the other side of the room and pushed the curtains aside rapidly; allowing the fresh light to come inside. Thranduil let out a shriek and dived under the sheets to cover his face from the attacking rays of the sun. Galdor walked to the bed with a grin he could not wipe from his face. Thranduil’s attitude was just like when he was a kid. He always threw a tantrum when forced to rise early. In this case early was noon.

The Steward clawed at the sheets and despite Thranduil’s protests and grumbles he managed to pull the linens of the King’s head and reveal his grumpy face and uncharacteristically tangled hair. He chuckled at how miserable the Sindar looked.

“Are you planning on staying there forever?” he asked at last.

 

Thranduil nodded but then his face contracted in pain as the movement made flashes of agony shoot up his throat. He was a wreck. Physically and mentally. He just wished the Steward would grant him just another day of hiding away.

To his delight Galdor sighed and seemed to give up on trying to pull him out of his bed of misery for now. The Steward rubbed his eyes and just sat there for a while in silence. Both elves were deep in their own thoughts.

 

Thranduil gazed outside. He didn’t know what Galdor was thinking about but his own mind could linger on nothing but the betrayal done to him. The weather outside though tending towards warmth was still a bit chilly; like fear, like fear of facing the world. Inside was too warm; like shame.

There were so many feelings surging around his heart. Thranduil knew himself, and he also knew what he was known as. He was the King of the Great Greenwood, he was the only monarch on Arda called Elvenking; he was the last standing king of elves and the hope of the first born residing in these woods. He was the one who led a torn army to the worst battle the world had ever seen and he was the leader who brought the sons of Greenwood back home alive. He was the one who got blind, broken and burned by dragon fire but stood again. He led Greenwood to survival while spiders and orcs threatened it. Thranduil was the King his people feared and loved; terrible and fair; fair with his subjects and terrible with his enemies. He was the Elvenking whose name made his enemies shiver and whose mention warmed the heart of his people for they knew they had an unbreakable pillar to lean upon. But Thranduil _felt_ broken. He felt he had fallen into a well; deep and dark and treacherous; and he had no strength or reason to climb out of it.

 

What happened that hateful day? Was it a simple hunt or a war? He did not know. When the dagger of his most trusted sentry had cut deep in his flesh something died in Thranduil. A piece of his soul perished when the Silvan to whom he had entrusted his life and the life of his loved ones used the secret knowledge of his blindness against him. He had not felt anger then, or pain; only shame…and he did not know why. He did not want to remain in this world where simple hunts turned to slaughters and friends betrayed friends; he had _wished_ for Erhan to finish him. Thranduil did not want to know, did not want to look; for the image he was seeing was hateful and hideous.

He could have roused then. When Erhan had place his sword on his neck, or when his sentry raised his blade to cut off his head; Thranduil could have fought back…if he wanted to…and yet he had not wanted.

 

He heard Galdor move and when he looked he saw the Steward kicking off his boots. The Silvan climbed the bed and pushed Thranduil to the other side so that he could find a place for himself on the mattress. As children Thranduil and Galdor slept beside each other many times. It felt the same though the bitterness of their burden and the heaviness of their duties were still upon them. Galdor settled himself on the head board and when he was content with his place he sighed dramatically.

 

“It’s not fair that you get to sleep in such a nice bed while I do all your work!” he said lightly.

 

“I don’t even know why you are still talking to me!” Thranduil said flatly grimacing from the pain in his throat.

 

The Steward looked at him wide eyed. “Why shouldn’t I?” he asked sheepishly.

 

“You warned me several times about him and I did not listen…like some kind of a stupid challenge to prove you wrong!” Thranduil said playing with his fingers. “You have every right not to talk to me since again my burden is on you.”

 

“Don’t blame yourself for trusting him Thranduil…” Galdor said seriously. “You could have never predicted this.”

 

“But you did!” Thranduil argued weakly.

 

“No…” Galdor sighed settling more comfortably on the headboard. “I was just jealous that you had gotten close to him instead of me…I never guessed he was a traitor.”

 

The Steward’s honesty warmed Thranduil’s heart. While Galdor could blame him and tell him that he had warned him a million times; the Steward was trying to make him feel better and forget the guilt. Thranduil dragged himself closer to Galdor and placed his head on the Stewards chest. Instinctively the Silvan wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders, mindful of the injuries. The King remembered one occasion when Oropher had punished him for some mischief. His father had hit him on the soles of his feet with a narrow piece of wood and he could not walk for days. Galdor had taken him to the river and placed his feet in the cold water. Thranduil was just a kid then, he had cried from the burn of his sore feet. Galdor had hugged him them, just like he was doing so now.  Thranduil closed his eyes and listened to Galdor’s steady heartbeat, just as he used to do when they were kids and had no emotional support but each other. To face the world tomorrow, Thranduil needed these few moments of vulnerability, he was glad that he was not going through it alone and that there were still some who remained loyal.

 

***

 

Thranduil could not remember the last time he had sneaked into someone’s chamber without permission. He deemed it a very rude and intrusive act. But of course stabbing someone in the neck was hardly accepted as an appropriate thing to do so he really didn’t feel guilty about searching Erhan’s room but it didn’t help with the bad feeling in his gut.

 

Perhaps the last time had been the occasion when he and Galdor slipped into the royal chambers of his father and hid a ribbiting toad under the bed sheets. The Queen and King had jumped out of the bed in the night and Harma had forced Oropher to change the entire furniture because she feared the toad to be poisonous. Of course Thranduil had received a good deal of spanking afterwards but the amusement was still sweet under his teeth.

 

Galdor had suggested investigating the chamber where the former sentry stayed in. they had literary gotten nowhere with him so perhaps his chamber would give them a clue that from where he got orders or whom he had been in contact with. It had been Thranduil’s first day out of bed and the Steward had believed some adventure was necessary to get him out of his _foul mood_ , as he liked to call it. After addressing the council where the advisors had gaped at the King like he had just returned from the halls of Mandos, Thranduil and Galdor had retired early and gone down to the corridor where the rooms dedicated to the captains were located.

 

Erhan’s room was sealed since the day of the attack. Fearing someone might steal or alter the evidence Galdor had ordered the room to be declared off limits for everyone but him and the King. The windows, the drawers and the door were all sealed for a time when the Steward or Thranduil could investigate it further. The time had come now and Galdor turned the handle and opened the door; breaking the seal with no hesitance. He walked inside, Thranduil following him right behind.

 

The chamber was dark and pretty cold just like any place who lost its residents. They walked inside slowly, like thieves in the night, as if they were the ones who had done something wrong. Eventually Galdor lit a few candles and brought some light to the room.

The room was rather small. There was a single bed on a corner. The bed was made neatly. Beside it there was a small desk where the ink and quill and some papers were placed. On the other side there was a chest of drawers and a door to the bathing chamber which was the slight luxury the room offered. Erhan’s spare weapons and war armor were leaned on the wall. The two felt very out of place in the this very private space.

 

“You start with the desk…” Thranduil sighed at last. “I’ll search the drawers.”

 

They started searching, not knowing what they were looking for actually. No words were exchanged between them as Galdor emptied the drawers of the desk and Thranduil pulled out various articles of clothing and personal belongings.

At some point Thranduil found some letters; stored away in the depths of one of the drawers. His heart skipped a bit as they sat on the bed and divided the letters between them. They opened them one by one and read them briefly.

 

“They are all letters from his father…” Galdor said at some point. “He’s written nothing special.”

 

“Just pleas for his son to answer him back which apparently he hasn’t…they seemingly didn’t have a good relation.” Thranduil said placing back a letter inside its envelope. He felt strangely relieved that they have found no connection between the assassination and Erhan’s paralyzed father. Bahman had been one of his father’s loyal men at the time of his health, Thranduil preferred to remember him that way.

Deciding that nothing would come out of the letters they resumed their search. Galdor was now searching the bed and the junks under it while Thranduil went to the armor. The King heard Galdor tear the pillow cover for some reason but did not turn to look until the Steward gasped audibly.

He turned towards the Silvan. In his hand the Steward was holding a chain. When Thranduil approached he saw the chain belonged to a heart shaped locket. “It was in the pillow cover!” Galdor explained skeptically.

 

Thranduil took the locket from the Steward. It was an ornate piece and seemed relatively new. The metal was cold in his fingers. For some reason his heart was hammering against his ribcage. This could lead them somewhere. Or it could be nothing. His face felt hot. Thranduil gazed up at the Silvan. Galdor gave him an encouraging look. The Sindar slipped his nail under the slight gap and pressed. The locket opened with a click.

 

His eyes grew wide. Galdor leaned forward to get a better look but then he too was petrified. Neither of them was surprised to see a small drawing of an elleth inside. They had both expected such a thing. But the thing that shocked them was the fact that they both knew the elleth. Drawn with simple black ink was the picture of an elleth Thranduil knew to have raven black hair and green eyes; he could tell many other details about her as well if he thought of it. Her name now rang in his head as well as his moments with her…the name suddenly felt so similar to _Malin_. Thranduil felt sick. As Morey’s piercing eyes looked back at him from inside the locket, Thranduil felt they had probably found the mater mind behind all his miseries.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D  
> Comments are really appreciated...


	75. Chapter 75

_Erhan walked through the woods alone. Night had fallen but the forest was illuminated with the light coming from the full moon. It made the shadows of the trees look like hands extended towards the sky; as if they were begging the Valar for something unknown; something anonymous and long desired._

_Choosing to spend the night in the wild and return to the capital the next day, their patrol had camped a few miles away from the river that indicated the border to Southernwood. Erhan had left the camp a few hours ago. Those who had stood watch had not minded; so engaged in their gossip they were._

_A flash of white flickered before his eyes for less than a second. A faint rustle of leaves reached his ears. A familiar scent touched his nostrils. He ran after it; like a hunter perusing a huntee. But his prey was different. She was intelligent and wicked. She was perfect._

_It took a few more seconds of running for him to see her properly. She ran before him, feet bare and raven black hair flickering behind her like the flags of the pirates that sailed the waters with evil pride. She was an angel of death with that silken white dress that contrasted the color of her hair._

_He stretched his hand; fingers twitching to touch, to feel the warmth of her skin. She glanced at him over her bare shoulder and ran faster; eyes teasing. Her laughter echoed in the forest. But Erhan too was in the best shape one could be. His longer strides overcame hers. His fingers curled around her white arm and he tugged hard._

_She giggled as she was tackled to the ground. With a strength Erhan did not expect from such a fair elleth she pulled him drown to the forest floor with her. His lover was strong; the knowledge waked a strange arousal in him. She giggled as he landed on his hands and knees above her, barely managing to keep himself from crushing her. The green of her eyes had almost diminished behind her blown pupils._

_“Why should you always run away from me?” Erhan panted._

_“Because I enjoy being chased!” Malin giggled, showing perfect white teeth._

_“I will catch you…” Erhan said. “And keep you captive forever…”_

_“What use will it be?” she asked wickedly. “I won’t be yours…”_

_“I want you to be mine…” Erhan leaned to kiss her but she turned her face away. The Sentry stopped midway._

_“Do what I asked you to…” She said in a tone that had change dramatically from the merriment of a moment past. “…and I will be yours.”_

_Erhan let out and exasperated breath that seemingly angered the elleth beneath him. She pushed him away with both of her hands on his chest and rose to her feet, putting distance between them. It broke the Sentry’s heart. He too stood from the forest floor._

_“I can’t kill the King Malin!” he said harshly._

_“Then forget about me…” She pierced him with her green eyes so unique among the Silvan and their hazel orbs._

_“I swore an oath to protect him…” Erhan lashed out._

_“Then go and protect him!” she shot back. “Why are you even here?”_

_She turned on her heel and started walking away. It shouldn’t have hurt the Sentry so much but it burned his heart to see her turn away so easily._

_“You never told me why?” he called. “Why do you hate him so much? The least I deserve is a reason…”_

_She stopped walking. In silence she stood there; her back to him showing off strong shoulder blades. Erhan knew she was contemplating and he knew well than to disturb her thinking. He had had tastes of her temper before. He had a feeling that she had not always been like this. The only sound between them was the rustle of the wind between the leaves. The same breeze was moving the fabric of her dress in the night air._

_At last she turned towards him. His heart sank when he saw her swollen eyes. She had been crying; from anger or sorrow he could not tell. He only knew that he did not like it._

_“You truly wish to know?” she hissed._

_“Yes…” Erhan breathed heart drumming._

_She inhaled deeply, her eyes looking away from him._

_“He raped me…” she whispered._

_Erhan felt as if a dagger had cut through his heart. His ears buzzed and his face was burning. Something protested in his mind as if his brain could not believe what was being received with his ears. But Malin was not finished._

_“Thranduil raped me when he was a prince…” she repeated. “I got pregnant. He locked me up in the palace, bound me to a bed and had the healers remove my child in secret.” She continued as she sobbed. “I saw my baby floating in blood in a tub; I almost died from blood loss…then he had me banished from the capital, because he didn’t want his father to know. Oropher would not have allowed any of this if he had known. He would have had Thranduil marry me and he would never reach his beloved Queen.”_

_Erhan’s blood boiled in his veins. Thranduil; the great Elvenking, his idol; was a rapist. The rapist of the elleth he had fallen for. His throat tightened. He could not breathe. The notion was absurd but he believed Malin, perhaps because he loved her blindly. But who would voice their defilement so openly? It could not be a lie. Malin approached him and took his hands in hers. She looked up at him with those green eyes he loved._

_“He’s a monster Erhan…” she sobbed. “He defiled me, killed my child and banished me…do you need more reasons for him to deserve death?”_

_Erhan was silent. He had no words to say. She cupped his face and placed a chaste kiss on his passive lips. “Kill him…” she whispered in his ear. “…regain my honor so that we can be together forever.” ***_

 

 

 

After more than a month of hospitalization Thranduil went back to his study and resumed his duties. His neck still hurt and it was hard for him to swallow. It felt like there were bone fractures stuck in his throat. But Thranduil knew that staying in bed would only worsen his already bad mental state. There were a lot of matters that had to be taken care of regarding Erhan. The King knew he would not find any sort of peace of mind until he saw them through.

 

As he sat straight on his chair behind his desk, Galdor stood to his left. He liked having the Steward there on his left side where he could not see. It lessened the insecurity he felt regarding his blindness. On his right stood Holgailion. The Lord had insisted on being there for when they were going to bring Erhan to the King. Thranduil assumed he was no longer considered eligible to protect himself.

 

He had chosen his study for this hard meeting. They had a rough conversation ahead and Thranduil did not fancy holding it in front of spectators in the throne room. He needed to ask Erhan many questions, some of which were too sensitive and too private.

 

The door opened after the slight knock. Thranduil’s heart drummed angrily on his ribcage. He could hear sounds of metal and chains even before two guards guided Erhan inside the chamber. Seeing his former sentry after this time was strange especially due to the circumstances. They had given Ehran humble but new clothes, and by the King’s order he was granted to take a bath; a luxury that he was cruelly deprived from by Galdor. Thranduil had not argued about it with the Steward though he did not approve of what he had done. He assumed it was a manifestation of Galdor’s anger towards the former sentry.

 

The guards and Erhan came to halt in the middle of the room. Thranduil felt Galdor shift on his left and Holgailion’s hand was ready on the hilt of his sword as if Erhan would jump across the desk and attack the King at any moment. But the Silvan stood in silence with his head dropped and eyes glued to his leather shoes.

 

“Stay outside…” Thranduil ordered the guards.

 

Holgailion seemed on the verge of protesting but he said nothing as the guards bowed and left the chamber, their armor clinging as they walked out. Erhan’s hands were bound by shackles as well as his feet. This was the ugliness of the world as someone once proud and high was brought down to this humbled state.

 

“Look at me…” the King ordered. His voice was unfamiliar to his own ears.

 

It took Erhan a few moments to oblige. He raised his head at last and hesitantly met the King’s gaze. There were dark circles around his eyes and he looked insecure, almost fragile.

 

“Was it worth it…?” Thranduil asked.

 

Erhan seemed puzzled. As if he could not tell what Thrandul was talking about.

“Was it worth it to lose everything for her…?” Thranduil clarified a bit.

 

A flash of realization passed the Silvan’s eyes. But then he wiped it off immediately.

“I do not know…” he stammered.

 

“Did I give you permission to talk?” Thranduil snapped. Erhan looked shocked as he closed his mouth.

 

Thranduil rose from his seat and circled the desk to stand in front of Erhan. He heard Holgailion and Galdor shift to take a better stance beside him. They wanted to be ready to protect him if Erhan had any plans of attacking but Thranduil doubted the Silvan had it in himself to do such a thing again.

Erhan looked down again. The King’s intense gaze was probably too much for him to hold. Thranduil was silent as he observed the Silvan but internally anger was rising in his chest. The betrayal, anger and sorrow he had buried deep inside himself were rushing out and he felt consumed by a rage he could not control.

 

“I trusted you…” he finally bellowed. “I trusted you with my life…with the life of my wife…” with shaky hands the King took out the locket they had found in Erhan’s room. “And you betrayed me for _this_ wench?” he yelled as he threw the locket at the Silvan. The locket hit the Sentry’s chest and fell to the floor. Erhan’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the object. Thranduil smirked sadly.

 

“What did she offer you?” he asked.

Erhan did not answer. He looked as if he was in pain and the King assumed he was indeed in some sort of emotional pain. The Sentry merely looked away.

“LOOK AT ME!!!”

 

Thranduil’s order made Erhan jump. He looked up at the King with wide eyes.

“What did she offer you…?” he asked in a calmer tone.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” the Sentry dared. A moment later he collapse to the floor as Thranduil’s backhand landed on his face. Blood ran from his nose and the Silvan tried to wipe it away with his sleeve but the shackles made it hard. Galdor stepped forward and yanked the other up. Thranduil picked the locket and opened it, revealing the elleth’s picture. He waved it in front of Erhan’s eyes.

 

“I’m talking about her.” Thranduil hissed. “This bitch who had men defile my sister, plotted to kill my wife twice, poisoned me AND had my daughter killed …”

 

“She was getting her revenge…” Erhan finally growled.

 

“Revenge?” Thranduil asked puzzled. Galdor’s grip tightened on Erhan’s elbow as the Silvan shook from anger and fear.

 

“She told me what you did to her…” Erhan yelled. “You raped her and then had her almost killed to remove her unwanted child. I was getting the revenge of the pain you caused my Malin…”

 

It took a few moments for the information to sink in for Thranduil. He hardly stopped his jaw from falling open. He was supposed to feel angrier but the knowledge that Erhan had only been deceived by wrong stories only made the King feel extremely horrible. The rush of feelings almost overwhelmed him. He felt an inexplicable rage towards the elleth while he felt bad and extremely sorry for Erhan who had fallen victim to her lies.

 

“Is that what she told you?” he smirked bitterly. “I bet she didn’t even tell you her real name…”

 

Erhan looked taken aback. He seemed to be even holding his breath; disbelief lingering in his eyes.

 

“Her name is not Malin…” Thranduil clarified sharply. “Her name is _Morey_. She was my playmate when we were elflings but then she took on a life of easy virtue and was thus removed from court.” The King continued, he felt extremely insulted by the notion of being called a rapist. “Yes, she was my mistress for a time…but I never touched her without her consent.”

 

“You lie…” Erhan tried desperately.

 

“Watch your mouth you filth!” Galdor growled.

 

“That wench hired men to rape and kill my sister, for Valar’s sake your own brother died in that attack.” Thranduil said sharply. “Someone who’s been raped would never have another suffer the same fate.”

 

The King’s eyes widened when suddenly Erhan started sobbing from the pressure. The Sentry looked defeated as he cried like an elfling. Thranduil knew it was hard, to put all your faith in someone and suddenly realize it was built upon lies.

 

“Where is she now…?” he asked softly.

 

“I don’t know…” the Silvan sobbed.

 

“If you help us, I promise to pull some strings in your trial…” Thranduil encouraged.

 

“I don’t know!” Erhan repeated sharply.

 

“Alright.” The King nodded solemnly. “I’ll find her myself then.”

 

There was a few moments of silence. Thranduil called for the guards to come inside. They took Erhan by his elbows and escorted him out.

 

 

                                                                                                    ***              

 

_Thud…thud…thud_

Thranduil closed his eyes as the sound of a wooden stalk hitting the stone floor reached his ears. He fought the urge to sink further down in his throne and let the huge antlers of the wooden seat engulf him like the powerful arms of a possessive lover. The sound that became louder with each second indicated that someone approached them who had little means for walking. Thranduil had anticipated this meeting from the day he opened his eyes and now the time to face Erhan’s father had come.

 

Since the culprit was his son, Bahman was actually the one who had to be anxious to be summoned to the palace. But Thranduil found himself extremely nervous. He had known Bahman since they had taken residence in the Greenwood. Bahman had been one of the noble Silvan who housed them and fed them after Thranduil and his mother arrived in the Woodland with his father’s escort; survivors of a brutal slaughter; hungry and homeless. He had remained with Oropher through the centuries of his rein and followed the late king to war without question. The ellon had lost his leg in the battle. But his beloved had married him anyways on his return. Thranduil had known of his two daughters and he had also known of his son Ardalan who fell protecting Aleth. But he had never known Erhan as Bahman’s son before the Silvan had appeared in the contents. Knowing that Erhan was Bahman’s son had been a reassurance of loyalty for the King. Now after all that had happened Thranduil no longer knew who he could trust. He silently begged the Valar not to let Bahman be disloyal as well.

 

Bahman was panting when he finally reached the base of the throne. He was crunched down on his wooden cane. Though young looking the eyes of the elf showed thousands of years of hardship. Thranduil assumed this last bit had broken the back of this ellon. He regretted that Bahman had to face this but there was nothing he could really do.

 

“Your majesty…” Bahman bowed despite his missing leg. His voice wavered.

 

“Master Bahman…” Thranduil said trying hard to sound distant.

 

The ellon’s eyes dropped from Thranduil’s eyes to his neck and shoulder where bandages were visible despite his high collar. “What has my son done to you?!” he asked, fear of what he might hear was heavy in his voice.

 

Thranduil wanted to explain but his voice broke in his throat and he could not get himself to open his mouth. How could he tell this loyal and honest elf that his son had committed treason and would face a trial soon? How could Thranduil tell him that his son might be sentenced to death?

To his relief Galdor who had been standing on his left started talking instead of him.

“Erhan tried to assassinate the King Master Bahman…” Galdor said. “Fortunately he failed.”

 

Bahman closed his eyes as the pain of this news hit him. He was agonized but the ellon did not seem surprised which was a shock for Thranduil and Galdor. Bahman shook his head regretfully as a shudder ran down his frail body. He knew what would become of those who committed treason or tried assassination on any elf specially the King.

“My son…” he moaned as he shook his head. “My rebellious son…”

 

“You don’t seem surprised…” Galdor voiced.

 

Bahman opened his eyes. His brown eyes were tearful. “My sons were different from the day they were born…” he almost sobbed. “While Ardalan was obedient and wise; Erhan was always unruly and rebellious. I never understood how his mind worked and as a father I was unable to control him.”

 

“Did you know of his tendencies that has led him towards this act?” Thranduil asked, his heart drumming as he anticipated the answer.

 

“Erhan left home years ago after we had an argument…” Bahamn said regretfully. “Since then I had not seen or heard of my son until now…he did not visit even when his brother died”

 

Thranduil frowned and exchanged a look with Galdor.

“So you deny any involvement in this…” Galdor said.

 

The sadness of the Silvan’s face settled deeper. “I knew nothing…” he said eyes darting from Galdor to Thranduil. “…had I known you had taken him as your sentry, I would have warned you of his unruly nature; my Lord.”

 

Though he knew Bahamn might be lying the King chose to believe him. Maybe because it was easier but he tried to tell himself that this Silvan would not betray him. It had become tricky to know whom he could trust.

 

“What will happen to my son now?” the poor father dared to ask.

 

“A trial would be held…” Thranduil sighed. “He would be given the chance to defend himself, though I don’t believe he has anything to say. It will be on the court to decide what to do with him.”

 

“They would have him executed…” Bahman mourned to himself in whisper.

 

“We are under the impression that Erhan was in fact deceived by someone who we know is the conspirator of many crimes done against the royal family…” Galdor snapped them out of their thoughts, eyeing the father seriously. “…an elleth…we believe she has used your son.”

 

Bahman’s eyes flickered back to Thranduil when he continued the explanation Galdor had started.

“Erhan refuses to talk…” he said. “But if he helps us find her, I promise that I’ll influence the vote of the court.”

 

A light of hope came to Bahman’s eyes. The prospect of seeing his son had made him happy but the hope of being able to persuade Erhan to save himself was something else. Taken by darkness or not Erhan was his son. Even if he was not a satisfying child Bahman was the father who had held him as a baby and had loved him unconditionally; he had waited his son’s return every day.

 

“I will talk to him, your majesty…” he promised. “I will make him see…”

 

***

 

It was late into the night when Thranduil walked inside the sewing workshops. It was a long chamber with sewing machines arranged in rows. In the mornings Thranduil would not even think of entering this place for the noise coming from a hundred sewing machines would practically drive him mad. But at this moment the workshop was empty except for one machine working. The Queen was sitting in the far end of the room behind her own machine and was sewing something that seemed to be clothing for a baby. Kyan sat on the floor beside her and was playing with some wooden toys. The baby spotted him first and stood from his position as fast as only children could.

 

“Than-uil!” he squeaked and ran to him on his small feet.

 

The King could not help but chuckle at the toddler’s vigorous attempts to call him by his given name and this time was no exception. He picked Kyan up and after taking a kiss from his fat cheek he settled the child on his hip and went to his wife who stood from her place with difficulty. Her huge belly was becoming really inconvenient.

 

“Why are you working still…?” he asked placing a small kiss on her lips. “You should rest more.”

 

“I was restless…” she smiled faintly.

 

Thranduil knew. Leuthil had become increasingly restless. She slept less and on strange hours and she was almost always jumpy and anxious. At first Thranduil had dismissed it for the signs of pregnancy but Aleth had told him that these attitudes had appeared after he was attacked by Erhan. Thranduil supposed it was because of the things she had gone through and the worry she had had for his wellbeing. There was nothing he would not give to erase those memories from her mind.

 

“Did you see Bahman?” she asked. “How was he?”

 

“As good as a father with a treacherous son can be!” Thranduil sighed running his fingers through Kyan’s brown hair. “I fear his family will be under much pressure after this. People don’t take to treason well.”

 

“This is the price you pay for raising such a son!” Leuthil said sharply which took Thranduil by surprise.

 

“That’s cruel to say Leuthil…” he commented. “The father should not be judged because of his son…”

 

“That elf tried to hurt you…” Leuthil said running a tender hand on her husband’s cheek. “Who knows he might be the one who killed our daughter…” she continued. “Don’t expect me to talk kindly of them…”

 

“We don’t know for sure sugar…” Thranduil said.

 

“How many other traitors are here?” She said exasperated. “Unless this place is crawling with them, he is definitely the one who poisoned you and killed our child.”

 

“Don’t judge him Leuthil!” the King ordered sharply.

 

The Queen’s blue gaze turned cold. “You still have a soft spot for him…” she said as she turned away to gather her things from the desk.

 

“I just think he’s been deceived…” he said.

 

“Deceived by what?” Leuthil asked.

Thranduil barely held his tongue. He had not yet told the Queen that they had found the true identity of the so called _Malin_. He could not predict her reaction. Thranduil knew that his wife and Morey used to have conflicts while he had been away to war. He did not know how Leuthil would take the fact that the source of their miseries was his former lover.

 

When the Queen got no answer from him she rolled her eyes and sighed. She took her things from the desk and walked passed him as she muttered a “goodnight!” to him, or probably to Kyan.

 

When the door was shot behind her. Thranduil let out a sigh. Kyan gave a babbling sound but what he said was too incoherent to understand.

“Yes pen-neth…I think she loves you more than me at this moment…” Thranduil told the toddler.

Kyan gave him a very serious nod.

 

***

 

The walk to the dungeons was done slowly as it was hard for Bahaman to go down so many stairs on one foot. He had a firm hold on his crane. Galdor wondered if his white knuckles were from the anxiety the Silvan felt.

 

The guard at the entrance to the dungeons tensed when he saw Bahman and his hand immediately flew to his weapon but seeing the Steward behind the Silvan he relaxed. Galdor ordered the guard to open up and together they walked inside the short corridor that housed three cells. The guard then opened the door to Erhan’s. Bahman took a deep breath before entering.

 

Erhan was sitting on the stone bench as he had been when Galdor had visited him several times before. He had gathered his legs in his chest and had an arm around his legs. The former sentry lifted his head from where it leaned on his knees. When his eyes adjusted to the light showering from the ajar door he recognized his father and his eyes grew wide. He gasped as a look of pure happiness settled on his features. Galdor wondered if the young Silvan had wished to return to his family after his runaway or if he truly wanted to leave home in the first place. The Steward had seen many sons driven away from home because of their strict fathers. Erhan rose from his place in awe, the shackles around his feet made a threatening sound but he ignored them.

 

“Adar!” he gasped with happiness and tried to walk towards his father but to his dismay Bahman took a step back, putting distance between himself and the son who desperately wished to embrace him.

Seeing his father’s repulse Erhan froze midway and a wave of sorrow hit his features. Galdor felt sorry for him in a way. The Steward stood in the doorway so as not to intrude their privacy while keeping an eye on them. The father and son however seemed to have forgotten his presence.

 

“What have you done?” Bahman said bitterly, it was more a statement than a question.

 

Erhan’s look changed from grieved to cold. “I thought you have come to show kindness to me for once.” He said brokenly. “To let us reconcile now that I might die soon.”

 

Bahman seemed unaffected by his son’s words. “Why did you do it?” he asked.

 

Erhan sighed exasperated and rolled his eyes. “I was trying to avenge the girl I love…” he replied sharply.

 

“Yes I’ve heard of this _girl_ , the snake. The master mind behind all the evil surrounding the royal family.” Bahman sniggered bitterly.

 

“It’s because she wanted to avenge herself.” Erhan snapped, he sounded doubtful; as if he could not believe himself either.

 

“Your brother was killed in one of her master plans.” Bahamn lounged forward threateningly. “How could you aid her?”

 

Hurt settled on Erhan’s face again. “It’s all about Ardalan again.” He whispered. “You always loved him more than you loved me.”

 

“I loved you the same but yes he was a better son.” Bahman confronted. “He allowed me to hold my head high.” He continued. “But all is not lost. You can still save a small part of our lost honor.” This last bit made Erhan raise his head and look at his father questioningly. “Tell them what you know and the King has promised to help you.” Bahman continued. “Tell them, because I rather have you in prison than mourn your death.”

 

 

Erhan was silent for a few seconds. But then he smiled weakly. “But I rather have myself dead than alive and consumed by lies.” He said. “I no longer know who says the truth.”

 

“Erhan…” his father started but was interrupted.

 

“Thank you father for coming…” Erhan said firmly. “It meant a lot to me…”

 

The son then turned away and went back to his place on the stone bench. Bahman knew he had been dismissed and he was a proud ellon. For a few moments he watched his son; striped of all fineries and titles. He knew it was probably the last time he could look at him, see the eyes he had loved since the moment they opened. Much bitterness lay between them. Now it felt too late to wipe them away.

 

The old Silvan sighed and walked out of the door. Galdor ordered the guard to close the cell again. Together the two walked out of the dungeons; the Steward patient with Bahman’s pace as it had even slowed down more after his meeting with his son. At last the Silvan came to a halt and turned towards Galdor.

 

“I’m afraid he won’t say anything. Let my son be tried in trial.” He said. “I’m content with their vote.”

 

“They might decide to execute him.” Galdor said flatly.

 

“Then so be It.” was Bahman’s response. “All must pay for their deeds lord Galdor.”

 

***

 

The trial was held. A jury consist of all the advisors of the court judged Erhan. It was rare in its kind that subjects of a realm ruled by a king would be judged by a fair jury. Thranduil was proud of the system he had built since he believed the wisdom of whole would always be more accurate than one. Yet it did not lessen the pain of the conviction.

Erhan stood straight in the court. He was not hunched down like a regretful criminal nor did he hold his head high like someone proud of his deeds. He seemed to be conflicted with his own actions as well. To Thranduil the Silvan looked so lonely and of course the girl he had sacrificed his life for was nowhere to be seen. Bahman however was sat among the spectators, firm and proud as ever; as if he had no connection with the accused.

 

The trial was held with no spectators from the people; but a few village leaders were present as representatives of the people. Erhan was asked several times again to help them and save himself, yet he did not oblige. He was of course found outright guilty for attempting to assassinate the King. Yet he was asked if he had anything to do with the other conspiracies. There were no evidence to prove his hand in them. The former sentry firmly denied any relations with the attack on the Princess or on the Queen. He reminded the court of the fact that he had been the one to save the Elvenking’s womenfolk that infernal day in the Market. He was accused of trying to overthrow the King. Erhan denied it several times, emphasizing that he only tried to assassinate the King because he thought him to have dishonored the girl he loved. The name of the certain girl however never left his lips despite the fact that Thranduil already knew who she was. When directly asked and accused about the death of the Elvenking’s daughter and the King’s poisoning, Erhan denied everything firmly. When put under pressure for those crimes he yelled at the court that they should open their eyes and look for the real culprit elsewhere for he had already confessed all the crimes he had committed and poisoning the King and his daughter was not one of them.

 

The counsel was done and the verdict was issued. Though it was no surprise to anyone the death sentence made the crowd gasp and whisper among themselves. Perhaps because in spite of the law a death sentence was never issued in Greenwood before; but then of course no one had ever tried an outright assassination on the King like this. Bahman lost his composure and broke into sobs. The father’s back bent further if that was even possible.

Erhan’s face was like stone when the verdict was read to him. He had predicted this. But what was going on inside him would never be known for anyone as he was taken to the dungeons again to wait his death.

 

It had taken a few days for some mortal from the Brownlands to reach them. They called him a hangman there. The name made Thranduil sick. He had been hired to do the job they could not do. In his letters with Galdor the man had promised the death would be fast and painless. Thranduil had thrown up literary when he was told. But the act was encouraged by the court and the people around him specially the Queen. Thranduil knew she thought her daughter avenged if the Silvan was executed. Yet the King believed Erhan when he said he had nothing to do with Negaar’s death. But he could not voice his doubts as the King had to be precise and steadfast in what he wanted. The only one who did not comment on the matter was Galdor. It seemed that just like Thranduil the Steward was nauseated despite knowing the necessity of the execution to show power and the result of treason to everyone.

 

Now as the King sat in his study alone, he felt numb. His heart hammered against his chest and his hands sweated. He tried to breathe deeply but there was a huge lump in his throat. Thranduil told himself over and over that this was the right thing to do but in his heart he felt wrong.

The executioner had arrived the night before. He was fed and rested. The man had declared that he hung the men sentenced to death. There was nothing Thranduil could do about it since he had no better method in mind. No way of death was fast enough, if the dagger that had pierced his own throat was any indication. Galdor had told him that Erhan had been fed as well and he was granted the luxury of a warm bath and clean clothes. He had asked to see his sisters. Thranduil had allowed it. The King had a slight hope for Morey to show up at some point but he knew she was a slut that cared not about the life that was lost on her account. He believed that Erhan was slowly seeing it as well. But perhaps it was too late.

 

He heard the door of his study open. Turning he saw Galdor and Leuthil enter. The Queen heavy with child looked firm and persistent while the Steward looked more doubtful than he had during those days.

 

“Everything’s ready…” Galdor said. “It’s time.”

 

Thranduil’s heart fell to his stomach. He brought the goblet of wine he was holding to his mouth and drank all of it in one breath. Sensing his doubt Leuthil approached him. She looked up at him with a piercing and firm gaze.

 

“This is the right thing to do…” she said as she had told him several times during those days. “Do not let our child rest unavenged.”

 

Thranduil did not like the steadfast look in her eyes or the unmerciful implication that lay behind her tender tone. He understood her. Thranduil too wished to find the person behind their daughter’s death. He too wanted the culprit to be punished and their child avenged. But he still could not be sure if Erhan was that person. He also knew how much Leuthil loved him and he understood her fear when the former sentry had almost managed to kill him. But now that he had found his health once again, Thranduil found it hard to hate Erhan. The betrayal still burned his heart but the King did not fancy the notion of killing, he had never fancied it for his own childhood had ended pretty soon with the first death he witnessed.

 

But he did not protest. Thranduil placed a hand on Leuthil’s elbow and looked her straight in the eye. “You stay inside…” he ordered. The king did not wish for his pregnant wife to witness the execution. The protective waves surging inside him calmed when Leuthil nodded and did not argue.

 

He held his head high and walked out of the door, Galdor followed him. The crown felt heavier than usual on his head. The corridors seemed shorter and Thranduil wished that they would never reach the courtyard. But they did, and he was shocked from the number of spectators who had gathered. The execution was going to take place in the courtyard of the stronghold and yet Thranduil had not predicted that such a crowd would gather to watch someone die. His subjects had become crude he thought. Perhaps the hardship of centuries had made them such.

 

The crowd was enclosed by a chain of armed guards. On the front he could see Bahman, still somehow balanced on his one leg and crane. The ellon’s eyes ran left and right anxiously as he awaited his son. Thranduil assumed the Silvan did not know if he should wish to see his son once more, for seeing him meant he was being taken to the gallows that was fixed on a tree. The thick robe swayed in the slight breeze as the mortal executioner stood under it with his black mask and a proud leg placed on the stool there; too casual and relax for someone who was going to kill and immortal a few moments later. Thranduil could hear the tree, singing a lament.

 

The almost silent crowd gasped and murmured as Erhan was escorted from the palace towards the tree. For the first time since he had been arrested the Silvan looked anxious and fearful. His eyes were wide and he shook uncontrollably. Bahman lost all control and cried his son’s name. Erhan started crying when he saw his father in the crowd. Bahman tried to break the line of the guards and reach his son but he was held back.

 

At last the guards brought Erhan under the tree. He refused to let them cover his face. His tearful eyes found the King. He did not beg however. The Sivan was helped on the stool. Thranduil’s heart started hammering again and he could not breathe. The executioner placed the loop around the elf’s neck and tightened it. Sensing the King’s stress Galdor shuffled closer to him. Thranduil could feel the Steward’s doubt as powerful as his own.

 

When all was ready a deadly silence fell upon the crowd, broken only by Bahman’s wails who was already mourning his son’s death. Thranduil realized Erhan’s sisters were nowhere to be seen.

 

His blind eye did not let him see the nod Galdor gave the executioner just as he had failed to see Erhan’s blow when he had tried to kill him. The mortal man did not hesitate or linger. He took a step back and as the crowd gasped he kicked the stool from under the Silvan’s feet.

 

The tree moaned as the weight of the elf was dropped on its branch. The crowd screamed and gasped. Erhan was choking as he writhed. His tongue hung from his mouth and his eyes were pupping out of their sockets. The ironic thing was that Thranduil felt his own throat tighten. His head circled. His eyes were not on Erhan but on the Silvan’s father who was twisting in the guards grip like a fish thrown out of the sea. Thranduil remembered feeling like that. The moment he saw his daughter, dead in his wife’s arms, he had felt that way; like he could not breathe, like there was nothing left in this world to hold on to.

 

Thranduil did not know when or how but he could not take it anymore. “Bring him down…” he ordered loudly. A moment passed before their registered his order. He had to say it again this time in a cry. Galdor was the first to recover as he yelled at the executioner. The man gathered his senses fast even if he had never seen an execution halted before. He took out a pocket knife and cut the cord from the tree.

 

Erhan fell to the grass like a puppet. The guards who had escorted him ran to the Silvan and removed the loop from his neck while the crowd expressed their shock and surprise with gasps and murmurs. Bahman called his son’s name like crazies. With Galdor’s sign to the sentries the father was allowed to approach his son and the Silvan ran to him, hitting the ground beside his offspring. Erhan coughed dryly and sobbed loudly like a newborn baby. He had wet his breeches and was a sheer mess. But at least he was alive. Thranduil felt a weight lift from his chest even though he knew he had caused a scandal.

 

“I use my right to grant mercy…” he held his head high, trying not to look at the father who had gathered his sobbing child in his tight embrace. “The culpable will be escorted to the ports under strict care and will be sent to Valinor for the judgement of the Valar.” He announced over the uproar. “That is all…”

 

The King then turned on his heel and walked inside the safety of his Stronghold. Galdor followed him in silence. He was glad for the Steward’s silent support. Galdor remained behind when Thranduil locked himself inside his chamber and dropped on the bed. He did not even try to remove his crown. He needed to fall in to reverie for sleep was where oblivion ruled.

 

 


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tolerating my long delays as always :)

It was deep into the afternoon when Thranduil finally found the strength to get out of the bed. He engaged himself in the mess that was made from his hair as his crown had tangled in the long strands as he had slept with it on his head. He also needed to change for his entire outfit was wrinkled. At last he found his way back to his study.

 

The King sat behind his desk and tried to get some work done. He hoped it would take his mind off the events of the morning but it was in vain. The feelings and the scenes relived inside him. Thranduil knew he had caused a scandal. He knew he would have to face many queries and criticisms; but deep inside he had no conflict with himself. If he had gone with the execution he would have never forgiven himself for no matter what Erhan had done, Thranduil was not a kinslayer; not yet at least.

Such a public manifest of violence would have changed everything in his realm. It would have roughen the soft spirit of his subjects and would have been bad education for those who had the potential of violence. Thranduil did not even start to think about the guilt that would have remained with him an eternity.

 

The King rose from his seat and came to stand before the window. The trees were still green despite the warmth of summer slowly creeping in the woods. The birds sang and the trees were happier. The forest seemed lighter than how it had been in the morning. Life was beautiful; and it was such an enormous miracle. Who was Thranduil to take it away so easily…? The King knew he had just been one step away from becoming a true tyrant.

 

“What have you done?”

Leuthil’s sharp voice almost made him jump. So deep in thought he had been that he had not heard her enter. It wasn’t a shock for him that his wife was the first to demand explanations. Nor did her anger came as a surprise to him. The King however, did not turn to face her.

 

“Thranduil…look at me.” She growled. And then he turned towards her. She was standing on the other side of the desk, one hand clutching under her huge belly. “They say you granted him mercy. Tell me it’s not true.”

 

“It’s true…” Thranduil said in a much calmer tone.

 

Leuthil’s eyes widened. A look of disappointment settled in her features and mingled with the anger that was already there. “Why?” she asked brokenly.

 

“I couldn’t take his life when I still had doubts about his crimes.” The King explained logically. A logic that made the hopeless expression on Leuthil’s face turn to pure rage.

 

“He tried to murder you.” She reminded.

 

“In that case I was the only accuser and I chose to drop the matter because I think his death remedies nothing.” Thranduil said firmly.

 

“And what about our daughter?” Leuthil said flatly.

 

With the mention of Negaar something broke in Thranduil. But this was nothing new. Her remembrance always brought pain and Thranduil doubted if a time would ever come when he would not feel such a pain. “We don’t know if he’s done that for sure.” Thranduil reasoned. “He denied it till the last moment.”

 

“Well then he’s a _liar_.” Leuthil suddenly lost all control and screamed. “Has he not been lying to you all along?”

 

To that Thranduil had nothing to say. Yes, it was true that Erhan had lied to him and had almost managed to kill him. But the Silvan had also saved the life of his sister and wife. All Thranduil could say was that he _felt_ Erhan was not the culprit behind Negaar’s death. He did not think Erhan was capable of such a crime. And besides the former sentry had confessed everything, why wouldn’t he come clean when he knew he would die. The Queen’s harsh tone took the King out of his thoughts once more.

 

“Your daughter is unavenged. And besides you’ve caused such a scandal. Now everyone will know that in your realm treason goes unpunished.” Leuthil tried to reason passionately. “Please Thranduil, reconsider it.”

 

“I can’t go back on my decision.” Thranduil turned away.

 

“You can’t or won’t?” she asked bitterly.

 

It took Thranduil a few moments to respond.

“I won’t.” he said at last turning towards his wife again.

“I have seen death Leuthil. I have seen it enough to value life.” He continued before she could argue again. “I won’t take his when I am full of doubt.”

 

“You cannot rule with such strong sentiments Thranduil…” Leuthil said regretfully.

 

With that Thranduil’s expression turned cold. He threw her an icy gaze which he never gave her. Thranduil was tolerant of criticism but he had him limits. He was the King. He had ruled Greenwood for a millennia. With or without sentiments he had managed to keep his realm on her feet. He would not have ages of his rein under question by none other than his wife.

 

“My Queen, if I’ve given you the impression that you can tell me how to rule, I am truly sorry.” He said coldly. “My decision is final.”

 

Leuthil seemed taken aback by his cold attitude and harsh words. But she had to be reminded of her limits and someone needed to tell her that she was being too unmerciful in that situation. It was understandable that she wanted the culprit of her daughter’s murder to die; but that did not excuse executing without enough reason.

But Thranduil’s heart was tender when it came to her and when the Queen’s expression turned sour and extremely sorrowful he regretted his harshness. The King pinched himself internally to remind himself that he was dealing with a pregnant elleth whose feeling and sense of loss was heightened by her condition.

He approached her and cupped her face gently. Relief washed over him when she did not move away from him as he placed a loving kiss on her temple.

 

“Go to our chamber and rest my love.” He whispered to her. “Do not burden yourself with the decision’s that are mine.

 

***

 

It was two days later that the heat of summer truly hit them and with it came the season of departure for those who longed for Valinor and open waters. As Thranduil watched from his window the elves prepare for their journey he wondered what truly gave them the motive to move on. He had heard them say they were exhausted, that they were tired of the cruelty growing in Middle-Earth; that the smell of salt had filled their nostrils and the sound of waves their ears. He himself still felt nothing. He did not assumed sailing on a wooden ship would bring him happiness or even serenity; at least not now. He had many unfinished things here. His people needed him, he still had his friends and his beloved was beside him. Moreover he was about to become a father again, and this time he was not going to fail.

 

It was such a pity he thought that the elves left this world and as a King the cost was too much for him. Every day the population decreased and the number of the newborn babies were never enough to replace those who left. But Thranduil could not blame them. Greenwood was no longer a safe shelter; and the elven hearts were fragile things.

 

“Come in…” he called after one heavy knock on the door of his study. That kind knocking was associated with the Steward after years of practice-one powerful hit and no more- and so the King was not surprised when he saw him standing in the room as he turned.

 

“My lord…” Galdor gave him a small bow of the head. It was amusing that the Steward was often very informal with him as he had been their entire lives and sometimes he suddenly turned polite and distant; especially when he had taken over some solemn duty. But Thranduil never remarked on that, not wanting to make his friend sensitive. “The caravan will leave in a few hours…” Galdor explained. “We are sending Erhan with them; with extra protection of course. The escort will return after he boards the ship.”

 

“Tell them to make sure that ship leaves the harbor…” Thranduil said as he made his way to the small table and poured himself some wine. “And to make sure he does not swim back to the shore!”

 

To that Galdor smirked but then he turned serious again. “Bahman is leaving with him as well.” he said. “His daughters are going to.”

 

It saddened Thranduil to hear this, though he understood that the family wished to be together. If he had had a choice Thranduil would have left Middle-Earth with his mother, if only for not losing her. But it was a tragedy that because of one, three others had to leave as well.

“It is upsetting that Greenwood should lose such elleths that can bring healthy children for the future…” he sighed, gazing at Galdor sadly. “Yet I cannot blame them…not can I stop them.”

 

The Steward nodded. He seemed distressed as he chewed on his words. “There’s something else…” he said carefully. “Erhan wishes to see you before they take him.”

 

It was as if a great fire suddenly burned Thranduil’s insides as rage took over him. The Silvan had his mercy and now he wanted to have audience as well. “I don’t want to see him!” Thranduil growled as he downed the entire glass and hit back the goblet on the table with extra force.

 

“He says he has something to tell you…” Galdor said as he approached Thranduil, knowing the topic was still sensitive for the King.

 

“There is nothing left to say!” the Sindar snapped. But Galdor placed a hand on his arm to calm him.

 

“He might have something to say about Morey!” the Steward whispered as if he feared anyone hearing.

 

Thranduil looked daggers at him as if it was Galdor’s fault but the Steward did not mind taking the blame if it turned out with the Sindar making the right decisions. Galdor was right after all. It would not hurt to see the former sentry. With another glare and angry puff Thranduil nodded. Galdor chuckled at his antics as he made his way to the door. He talked to someone outside and Thranduil noted that the Steward had already brought Erhan and had stood the Silvan behind the door. The King wished not think about how Galdor had been sure that the King would react on his persuasions.

 

Erhan was brought in by a guard. The Silvan had shackles around his wrists. If the metal was anything but elvish made it would have left injuries by now. The prisoner stood in the middle of the room, though Thranduil could only see him from the corner of his eye as he was busy sulking and had found the bottle of wine much more interesting to look at than his assassin.

The guard left and the King assumed Galdor must’ve dismissed him with a wave of hand he must’ve missed due to his blind left eye. It left a pang of insecurity in him. He wanted Erhan gone. Thranduil did not wish to think that he was scared of the Silvan.

 

“I am listening…” he finally said coldly.

 

Erhan did not seem surprised by the King’s cold tone. He looked up at Thranduil and took a deep breath before speaking. “I wanted to thank you…” he said in a genuine voice. “For giving me a chance for life.”

 

Silence settled in the room; heavy and bitter. The King was in thought. “I didn’t do it for you…” Thranduil said at last as he turned towards the Silvan.

 

Erhan seemed taken aback though he said nothing, allowing the King’s gaze to pierce him.

“I did it for your father…” Thranduil continued. “I know the pain of losing one’s flesh and blood. I did not wish for Bahaman to go through that again…no father should ever bury their child.”

 

Again silence came between them but this time it was filled with sorrow.

“Still…” Erhan said at last. “I am grateful…”

 

To that Thranduil said nothing. He had nothing to say. He would’ve done the same with or without Erhan’s appreciation. And the Silvan’s gratefulness changed nothing; his sister remained unavenged, his daughter was still dead, and his own throat was already soar from the assault of Erhan’s six inch dagger. And the real culprit still roamed around his land and he had no clue where to find her.

 

“I wish to help you…”

 

Erhan’s next words made the King look up at him with disbelief, but the Silvan looked genuine. Before Thranduil could recover from the shock the Silvan continued.

“There is an inn in Southernwood close to the river. It used to be a shelter for travelers but after their isolation it turned to a brothel. She resides there.” Erhan said.

 

Thranduil exchanged a meaningful look with Galdor. This information was very valuable if proven to be true. But still the King had issues believing it. It took a lot for a she-elf to succumb to prostituting. She must’ve been in great financial difficulty to yield to that and if in bad economic situation how the hell did she afford to hire men to do her dirty job. As if reading his mind Erhan provided him with an answer.

 

“She doesn’t work there as a prostitute.” He explained. “Malin moved there after you attacked her house…she uses the brothel as a shelter of her activities. No one suspects her there…” he continued. “This place is also where Southernwood’s leader and Malin trade weapons and occasionally food and supplies with men of the south.”

 

Thranduil’s heart was drumming out of his chest. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked suspiciously. “I thought you loved her.”

 

“And I loved my king before she came to my life…” Erhan said regretfully. “I can no longer tell the truth from the lies but deep inside I feel I’d trusted the wrong side…now that you’ve given me a chance of life, I wish to fix it as much as I can.”

 

“What if it’s a trap?” Galdor accused, frowning.

 

Erhan’s gaze turned to his fellow Silvan. His look was cold and exhausted. “It’s not a trap.” Was all he could say. He seemingly had no way to prove it.

 

“Very well then…” Thranduil said, before turning to Galdor. “You can take him.”

 

Galdor walked out and called the guard. The sentry came inside and gently escorted Erhan out. Before leaving the Silvan turned and gave Thranduil a look of pure regret, but he said nothing. Slowly he walked outside to join the group of elves that were leaving Middle-Earth on a journey that had no return.

 

***

 

“Of course I remember her!” Miklovand exclaimed and then smirked. “She was the sexy mistress you kept in your bed for a while!”

 

Thranduil glared daggers at his step-brother but he chose not to comment on it. After all he had kept that snake in his bed for indeed a long time. The blame was his and no others. This was half the reason he did not want to tell Leuthil about this.

Miklovand was standing there leaning his rear on Thranduil’s desk. Galdor was sitting beside the King on a stool. It was deep into the night and the entire palace seemed asleep. The informal gathering of the three felt like old times when they were mischievous elflings planning something horrible to do. But of course Thranduil and Galdor never allowed Miklovand in their games back then. This time was different.

 

“Well we have strong evidence that Morey is the same _Malin_ we were looking for.” Galdor changed the subject. “Erhan told us everything, he also said where she lives in Southernwood.”

 

“Wasn’t Erhan lying to you all along…?” Miklovand frowned. “How can you trust him now?”

 

“Because I have no choice…” Thranduil spoke for the first time as he raised his head from where it rested on his hands. “It’s the only clue I have; I have to try it.”

 

Miklovand gazed at the King for a few moments. A flash of sympathy crossed his features but then he nodded. “How many men should I gather?” he asked.

 

“None!” The King replied to which Miklovand’s eyebrows shoot up and Galdor let out an exasperated breath. “We’ll go alone, just the three of us.”

 

Miklovand exchanged a look with Galdor as if he wanted to confirm if Thranduil had truly lost his mind.

“Last time we lost her because too many people knew…” Thranduil reasoned heatedly. “I will not make that mistake again.”

 

Galdor jumped off his seat from frustration. He had been arguing with Thranduil about this for hours. But the King’s will was strong as a mountain.

“We can’t protect you like this!” the Steward gritted his teeth as he protested again.

 

“I won’t need protection if no one knows me!” Thranduil snapped.

 

“Thranduil is right!” Miklovand said, which was strange since he never took the King’s side. “Last time we were attacking a house in a middle of nowhere, we could take as many men as we wanted. But this time it’s different. If we take troops to Southernwood, we’ve declared war.”

 

“Exactly…” Thranduil sat back. “Southernwood is like a sleeping dragon which I do not wish to awaken yet…for now I just want the bitch. I’ll deal with the south later.”

 

Silence settle between the three for a few seconds until Miklovand broke it. “When shall we go?”

 

“At dawn…” the King answered. “I’ve left Holgailion in charge…no one else should know.”

 

The Captain nodded. “Then I’ll go get some sleep.” He said.

 

Thranduil waved his dismissal. Miklovand left the room and walked towards his chambers. His mind was racing. The Captain was stuck. He needed to think a lot and decide where he should stand.

 

 

***

 

Dawn came late for the Steward for he did not go back to his chambers. He did not wish to wake Aleth. She would’ve definitely asked questions and Galdor was not a good liar. He satisfied himself with the image of her sleeping; with Kyan curled up against her side as the child still protested against sleeping in his own bed. As respective parents they didn’t actually try to get him to sleep separately as well.

 

Galdor knew he would have to get up before dawn and he was not ready to answer questions. The Steward was restless. Though he never mentioned it, internally he never came to terms with Aleth’s defilement in the first place. He had been the one to hold her when she became paranoid or woke up from a horrible nightmare of that fearful night. Galdor knew she was better but she never fully recovered. The Steward appreciated the fact that Thranduil had dealt with the matter rationally, that he had not seen the fault in his sister as most dishonored families did. It had helped Aleth heal. In time she held her head high and became strong. But Galdor knew her wounded honor was not yet healed for although the initial culprits suffered a painful death, the real mind behind the attack was still out there.

 

At that time fearing Thranduil’s wrath, Galdor had not been able to avenge his lover himself and was forced to settle with watching the King do that for him. The anger had become a tangled web in his throat. He wanted Aleth to truly heal and he wanted her to know she was safe. But on the other hand he did not wish to give her false hope. So he did not go back to their chambers that night and thus avoided any kind of explanation. The Steward settled for his small study and dozed on the chair until soon dawn was upon them.

 

***

 

Miklovand did not sleep either. He paced his chamber numerous times and now knew that the length of his room was exactly 10 steps. His mind worked like a factory and he could hear the gears in his brain spin in full speed. The situation was ridiculously horrible for him. If it was a year ago when he and Morey still worked together, the captain would have found a way to sway Thranduil from his course. He would have done something to allow Morey a route of escape. He could do this now. All he needed was a raven to warn Morey. The bird would definitely reach the elleth faster than them and she could hide or run or at least be ready. But the situation was more complex than this. Miklovand had broken his ties with Morey many months ago and now the Captain did not know what to do.

 

At first he had liked the partnership with the elleth. It had started with a mutual objective. But as time passed a gap grew between their goals. Miklovand realized that Morey only intended to hurt the King as much as possible while the Captain had eye for the throne and would indeed avoid hurting his step-brother if it could be helped. It had of course been proven to him that Thranduil was a strong elf. He was not one to be easily killed or overthrown and he also had many wise men like Galdor beside him. The Captain had learned that making the King fade from grief was the only option and this very fact had tied him to Morey. But as it passed Miklovand realized that Morey had no mercy or tenderness left inside her. The pain of giving up on her child had made her heart a frozen rock and the Captain knew that the elleth would go to unmeasurable extents to hurt Thranduil and this was the reason that Milovand had finally quit.

 

Miklovand had not wanted innocents to die or get hurt. He could of course make some exceptions for the sake of their plan for he knew that gaining the throne was not possible without a little bloodshed. But from the first day of his partnership he had declared Aleth off limits. He had also sworn not to hurt the children. Children were too innocent to be mixed up with these cruelties. But Morey had not listened. She had outright assaulted the Princess. The Captain was stupid enough to forgive her for it for the sake of their partnership. But when the poison intended for Thranduil killed his innocent baby, Miklovand could no longer take it. Morey’s thirst for cruelty was unquenchable and the Captain could not play along.

 

They had separated not on good terms but not exactly on bad ones and so Miklovand did not know where they stood. They were definitely not friends, but whether they were outright enemies he could not tell. Morey was like a silent disease that had to be dealt with. The Captain had been shocked to find out she had other allies in the palace. She had managed to bribe the King’s closest sentry right under Miklovand’s nose. This showed her power and influence and Miklovand wanted this to end for he knew even if he became king Morey would be a threat to him. But the Captain feared that once arrested she would tell of their partnership. Of course Miklovand could deny it but he doubted the king was so stupid to believe him. But if they managed to seize Morey many of his problems would be finished as well.  

 

He even thought of somehow killing Morey in the process of catching her. But Thranduil had emphasized many times that he wanted the bitch alive. It would be too suspicious.

Miklovand did not assume that the elleth would immediately pour out information. He suspected that she would perhaps try to trade with him; her silence in exchange for her freedom. The Captain dropped on his bed at last; exhausted. He would play along for now he decided. Sleep claimed him and he welcomed it for the few hours until dawn.

 

***

 

Thranduil’s eyes opened just before dawn. Despite summer the morning air was a bit chilly and the King sank further under the warm blankets. But alas he had to go, and better to sneak out unnoticed. He did not fancy answering questions, especially now that Leuthil was still a bit sensitive on some matters. Before he got out of the warm bed he gazed at his sleeping wife.

 

She was sleeping on her side, facing him. Her dark hair spilled out on the pillow around her fair head. Her eyes were closed complimenting the long dark lashes on her pale cheekbones. Her mouth was slack in reverie. She had one hand under the pillow and another resting protectively on her pregnant belly. Thranduil wanted to weep from her beauty. He hated the air of tension between them. It had started with her mercilessness against Erhan. And though Thranduil scolded her for it he knew that he was the reason behind it. Though born and raised in a noble family, Leuthil was a simple Silvan. If he had not been so persistent in his love perhaps she would have a simpler and easier life without him. She would have married a noble yet fellow Silvan and had a normal life and probably children of her own. The thought of having Leuthil in another elf’s hands disgusted the King and he felt rage rise inside him from only the thought of it. The king leaned and kissed her cheek. She mumbled something in her sleep but did not awake. He kissed her tummy as well, imagining that the child inside would probably feel his love.

He hopped off the bed with newly found strength. He would find Morey and have their child and everyone else revenged. He would make the world a safer place for his wife and unborn child.

 

***

 

 

Aleth was used to waking up alone. Though she did not sleep in very long but Galdor was an early riser due to his unending duties. One of Aleth’s fantasies was to wake up with the Steward still in bed. But that rarely happened. Still the Princess had no complaint. She would visit him in his study as usual for a fast tea and something small to eat. She got out and dressed and headed for Galdor’s office.

 

But Galdor was not in his study. From the state of the chamber he had slept there the night before as a blanket was draped on the chair. Slight sadness settled in Aleth’s heart. She could not fathom why the Steward had done it. They had no problem with each other for Galdor to sleep away. The Princess decided to find him and ask. She thought she would probably find him in Thranduil’s study so she headed there.

The Princess had not yet reached the King’s study when she saw Leuthil talking with Holgailion in the corridor and from the looks of it they were having a heated argument. As Aleth approached Holgialion chose to stop the talk and give the Princess a bow if only to shield himself from the Queen’s wrath.

 

“My lady…” the lord said.

 

“Good morning…” she smiled. “Have you seen Galdor?”

 

“That’s exactly what I would like to know!” the Queen snapped heatedly. “He tells me neither where Thranduil nor Galdor are!”

 

“My lady it’s the King’s orders…” Holgailion defended.

 

“I am his wife Hogailion, I need to know where he is?” Leuthil said sharply.

 

“My lady, the King, Lord Galdor and lord Miklovand set out for a secret business last night…” the Lord said. “That’s all I can provide.”

 

“As the Queen I’m asking you to tell me where they are?” Leuthil almost yelled.

 

“My lady, with all due respect, I get my orders from the King and I cannot tell you…” Holgailion said desperately. “But I assure you there is no need for concern.”

 

“I hope you’re right!” the Queen hissed. “Because if you are not I will hold you responsible.”

 

She dismissed Holgailion angrily and the Lord seemed very happy to finally be dismissed as he almost ran away from them and disappeared in the corner.

 

“Where do you think they are?” Aleth asked once the lord was out of ear shot.”

 

“Out there doing some mischief like elflings…” the Queen puffed angrily. “Let’s just hope they don’t get themselves killed.”

 

Aleth could not think why they had done this. Why had they gone so unprotected? They could not have gone hunting spiders since they were so few. Her musing was left unfinished when Kyan ran to them on his small feet, seemingly had just escaped the hands of his nanny as he tended to do.

 

***

_Thranduil was beautiful; and that was not only what Morey thought. Everyone knew the fact. And anyone who denied it was blind or too jealous to admit it. He was like the paintings left from the great kings of legends. It was hard to believe that the prince had indeed saw those legends with his own eyes. With his carefree and wild attitude it was hard to believe Thranduil had lived through the horror of Doriath that Morey and many others had only heard tales of._

_Thranduil did not speak of those times and Morey respected it. She silenced her curiosity because she assumed it was too painful for the Prince to remember those times. Morey knew however that Thranduil had been born noble and his face and body was a manifestation of that fact. And though everyone knew that he had endured months and possibly years of hardship, hunger and homelessness until they’d reached Greenwood, no sign of those hard times were left on his body now._

_As he lay on the couch naked as the day he was born Morey tried to find a single fault in him as she drew his form on a parchment, but she failed. Thranduil was magnificent. His legs were impossibly long though his feet were fair. His calves were muscled and powerful but slender still. His thighs were strong and covered with milky skin ending on his well-shaped cock, standing proud between his legs. His hips were slim but defined with years of training. His stomach was flat with defined muscles but not exaggerated. His chest was broad but his collarbone was fair and his neck was long holding the fairest head a male could have. His limbs rested on the couch like a lazy tiger confident in his strength and beauty._

_The Prince suddenly reached for a glass of water of the table, making Morey give a protesting shriek: “Don’t move, I’m working!”_

_“Well I’m thirsty…” he argued._

_“Just a few more minutes you spoiled Prince…” Morey chuckled._

_Thranduil sighed dramatically and slumped back on the couch. It truly took a few more seconds for the dark haired elleth to finish the drawing and declare it done._

_Thranduil stretched his limbs like a cat and rose from his couch. He approached Morey gloriously naked and took the drawing from her. He looked at his picture and the elleth could see admiration in his eyes. Butterflies danced in her tommy._

_“Not bad…” he said at last handing the paper back. “Though you are a better subject for drawing.”_

_“Are you suggesting that I am beautiful…?” Morey said mischievously, to that she earned a kiss on her lips._

_“Perhaps…” the Prince whispered as he straightened his back again._

_“Then you’ve not seen yourself…” the elleth sighed._

_From where she was sitting she had Thranduil’s stomach and crotch in front of her. Tenderly she placed a kiss on his navel. The skin and the muscle beneath was hard as stone under her lips and his scent of arousal was strong. She kissed her way down cruelly missing his cock that was fully hard now. The elleth mouthed his balls as her hands caressed the inside of his thighs. The Prince had his breath locked up in his lungs and he let out a hiss when she finally took him in her mouth fully._

_His cock was huge but she was used to it by now. And besides she had taken many cocks before. But the elleth wished she could remain with the Prince for he was the only one who had her heart. Morey relaxed her throat and swallowed him until his cock hit the back of her throat. She started bobbing her head knowing she was giving Thranduil great pleasure as the Prince had his head thrown back and his eyes closed._

_At last his fingers found her hair and he tugged hard. She let out a moan around his cock which maddened him. He held her head in place and started pounding in her mouth. She gagged but Thranduil did not care and soon he came inside her throat._

_Morey swallowed his cum, too in love with him to protest. Thranduil was panting as if he had ran a race. She kissed his stomach again. Soon after the Prince recovered from his orgasm he pushed her down on the coach. She shuffled until they barely fit on the narrow seat together. He kissed her slowly, careless of how she tasted of his essence. His hand found the bands of her robes and slipped inside. Soon he was rubbing her. Her core was still sensitive from their last coupling not an hour ago and a gasp left her when two of his fingers slipped inside her and he rubbed her clit with his thumb._

_She couldn’t stop moaning. Twisting in pleasure she turned her head to find his lips. He kissed her slowly, all tongue and teeth and soon she too came._

_They lay together like that, tired and satisfied. “I love you…” she whispered._

_Thranduil did not answer that, only kissed her temple where he could reach it. He seemed sleepy._

_Morey looked at him. His aquamarine eyes were on her._

_“You are always kind and gentle when we are together…” She voiced her thoughts. “But you never tell me you love me…”_

_Thranduil did not respond for a while. Morey thought he was making a sentence in his mind. The Prince was never good at talking. He even stuttered when he was nervous._

_“Because I don’t wish to lie to you…” was all he said.***_

 

 

Morey sat back in her chair as Siavash debated with the scruffy man from the south. The mortal wanted to sell them low quality wheat for a very unreasonable price. Knowing their desperation the men placed any price they wanted on their products. They knew the Elvenking had banished and isolated them and they abused the fact as much as they could. Life was hard in Southernwood and many were hungry. It was not a life the proud first born deserved. The state of the inn was a proof to that. The place was full with elleths who had occupied themselves with prostitution and mortal men who bought their services. The residents of Southernwood were woodsmen and farmers. With the isolation of the village they couldn’t sell their services or products. Job was scarce and they were literary hungry. With Miklovand breaking his ties with her their only source of money had dried out.

 

Morey could no longer concentrate on what Sivash was talking about with the disgusting man. Her thought was on her own personal objective. She had heard that the Queen was pregnant again and that Erhan had been captured. Success had become hard without Miklovand’s aid and here in Southernwood she was too away from the capital to control anything. An ellon approached her from the crowd that were around the bar. Immediately her hand went to her pocket knife under her skirt but the young elf was unarmed and he stood a few feet away from her.

 

“I have news my lady…” he said.

 

“Do tell…” she said.

 

“It’s secret, can we talk outside?” the elf said. Then he leaned and whispered. “It’s about Erhan…”

 

Morey nodded. “Go outside…” she ordered. “I’ll come.”

 

The young elf left. She excused herself from the table and put on a shabby robe. Though summer was upon them the nights were still cold. She walked outside the inn from the back door. The door opened in a very narrow alley that only one person could pass through. The elf was standing in the middle of the way as she approached him.

 

“I’m listening…” she said. “I thought they executed him.”

 

“The King showed mercy the last second.” The elf said.

 

“Sentimental Thranduil!” Morey smirked. “His feelings would be his downfall.” She shook her head. “What will happen to Erhan then?”

 

“He sailed away with the last ship…” the ellon said.

 

“Very well then…” she said offering the elf a few coins. “Off you go.”

 

The ellon grabbed the money and left, disappearing in the end of the short alley. Morey remained there deep in thought. Questions ran in her mind. She could not tell if Erhan had told Thranduil anything. The elf was so willful and stupid that Morey did not believe he would say anything. But the Elvenking was stubborn and determined as well. For now the elleth had to wait and tolerate this silence. She turned to go back inside the inn but between her and the door a hooded elf stood with his bow loaded and pointing at her. His face was covered with a mask so she could only see his brown eyes and his red Silvan hair from under the hood.

 

“Don’t do anything stupid…” the elf said in a calm tone. “Put down any weapon you have…”

 

Morey chuckled despite her nervousness. Bandits were not a new issue in Southernwood. “Sir, I am a lonely elleth I have nothing of value.”

 

“I am not here for your belongings Morey…” the ellon said dropping his mask. Morey knew him at once though it had been centuries since he had last saw Galdor. Her eyes widened and if she had any doubts if flew away when the Steward took out a metal sign the size of a hand showing a stag in the woods; the sign of the representatives of the royal family. “You are arrested, by order of the King for the crime of treason against the crown.”

 

At once Morey set to running in the opposite direction, as it was the only way out of the closed alley. She had barely reached the end of it when she was grabbed by another who literary came out of nowhere. She only needed a glance at his face to know it was Miklovand. She cussed him as she struggled in his grip. A kick in his groin allowed her to escape him but the Captain’s wide body had closed the way.

 

Morey’s sharp eyes found a ladder in the middle of the alley, used for people to climb on the roofs. Hope grew in her as she ran for her only route of escape. When her fingers touched the rough wood of the ladder she almost dared to consider herself free. But then her long black hair was grabbed and yanked mercilessly by a gloved hand. The force was too much and she was thrown on the ground with a surprised yelp. She noted a third person who the gloved hand belonged to. The ellon approached her with long strides and she only had time to note how tall he was before he grabbed her by her throat and yanked her up. She saw a flash of silvery blond hair before she was lifted up in the air easily.

 

She choked and could not help the involuntary sounds escaping her throat. But then her eyes found his. It was him. The one she had once loved and had hated for a longer portion of her life. It was valiant of Thranduil to come for her personally. She felt important. When the grip on her throat tightened her left hand instinctively grabbed Thranduil’s iron grip on her neck. He held him with enough distant for her kicks not to reach him. She reached for her pocket knife with her other hand and even managed to bring it up. If only she could shove it in his heart or his neck, where she knew Erhan had managed to hit. But Thranduil was fast as he always was and he grabbed her wrist midway. His nostrils flared with anger and there were fire in his eyes and Morey was reminded that the hottest flames were blue.

 

With two long strides her back hit the wall forcefully. One hand pressed her throat mercilessly and the other tightened against her wrist that still tried to hurt the Elvenking in some way. But Thranduil’s wrath was powerful. As the Sindar watched her face turn purple she watched as all the blood was emptied from her hand and her fingers lost sense one after the other until the knife fell from her palm. No air remained in her lungs and the only thing she remembered before passing out were the whispered words of Thranduil against her ear; “It’s time for judgment luv…” he said.

 

 

 

 

 


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay as always; life caught up with me.   
> Hope you enjoy...

It was deep into the night when they arrived at the palace and there was still hours until dawn. The journey had taken long with them dragging a prisoner on foot, since none of them was insane enough to carry her on their steed. Fortunately Morey had been silent almost the entire way, for if she had talked but a little the King might have just silenced her with a sword in her throat. However her silence was also heavy as if it sucked all the good things in the world out of the forest air.

 

She did not protest as she was escorted to the dungeons nor did she say anything when they searched her and shoved her in the worst cell that existed, with a leaking ceiling and mice roaming around everywhere. Thranduil knew it was lame of him but he couldn’t help it. The entrance to the cell was closed and locked, and two guards were placed there for more security. Morey smirked at the King’s paranoia. Thranduil assumed she had the right to.

 

It was hours past midnight when finally Thranduil managed to enter the royal chambers. He toed his muddy boots out and sighed silently from the sensation of the cool stone floor under his bare feet. The room was dark with only the light of the moon to illuminate it faintly with silver dreamy rays that found their way inside from the open window and the light curtains that danced in the weak summer breeze. Leuthil was sleeping and the King was thankful.

 

He tiptoed to the narrow door on the other side and entered the closet. With the ease of practice he opened the clasps and the buttons and removed is clothes; dirty and dusty from the days of travel. Once his torso was exposed to the night air he could not suppress a sigh as he laid his head on one of the shelves and closed his eyes.

 

For the first moment after almost a week Thranduil allowed the pressure of the situation to sink in. All this time he had said nothing and had tried not to do anything wrong. Many times he had wished to just grab Morey’s throat and strangle her, see her pale skin bruise, feel her choked last breaths and watch as life leaves her eyes. Anyone would have done that to the person who had tried to hurt his family, anyone with any sense of honor would have killed the murdered of his child right away. But Thranduil was not anyone. He was the Elvenking; the last king of elves who had to be just. Life had not been fair with him; she had not been _fair_ …but he had to be. And it took so much for him to be that merciful; to tolerate her presence; her existence while he knew she had taken the life of his flesh and blood. The King shook from tiered anger and festering hatred as he kept his eyes closed and breathed deep; biting the inside on his cheek to stop the screams of outrage that might otherwise leave his throat. Thranduil thought he deserved this moment of weakness in the solitude of his closet.

 

“You’re back!”

 

Leuthil had only whispered those words but it made the King jump none the less. His emotions drifted into the air like uncatchable smoke as he raised his head from where it leant on the edge of the shelve and he looked up at her. She was standing on the doorway of the closet, one hand on her swollen belly and another grabbing the doorframe. From her white knuckles Thranduil could tell she was enraged.

 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, dropping his gaze. “I didn’t mean to wake you…”

 

“So I wouldn’t have known you’ve returned just as I didn’t know you when you left…” Leuthil said sharply. To that Thranduil said nothing but bit his tongue to suppress the bitter remark that was about to leave his mouth. He knew it was the result of his weariness and he didn’t wish to upset his wife but she wasn’t making it easier. He busied himself with changing to more comfortable breeches.

 

“Where were you?” she asked when his silence stretched.

 

“I would’ve told you if it was necessary for you to know…” he said reaching for a towel on the upper shelves.

 

“So you did not deem me worthy of sharing your secret missions!” the Queen remarked bitterly.

 

“I will explain everything in the morning…” Thranduil sighed as he tried to pass her in the doorway.

 

“No…” she said firmly placing a hand on his chest as she blocked his way. “I want an explanation _now_!”

 

“Well you can’t always get what you want!” the King shot back as he shoved her hand aside and passed.

 

“But you can always get whatever you want!” she argued, voice getting louder.

 

“Yes because I’m the fucking king of this Valar forsaken realm!” Thranduil yelled at her face and turned away towards the bathing chambers.

 

“Do you know…” she shouted at his back. “…how much you sound like a true tyrant!?”

 

With that Thranduil walked no further. He stood in the middle of the room and closed his eyes. Tilting his head back he breathed deeply. He had no right to shout at a pregnant elleth who was in fact righteous in her demand to know where her husband had been for a week. He had no way of knowing but he could guess in what a vagrant situation he had placed her with his unannounced departure. He had to understand her anger. So with all his might Thranduil swallowed his pride and his rage and all of his desperation for he knew the elleth standing in that room was not to blame for his troubles. And he really hated to be called a tyrant. He opened his eyes after a few seconds and turned towards her. Gazing at the Queen with calmer emotions he found her just as exhausted as himself.

 

“My love…” he called her. “I had a very bad week; I’m just glad to be home. I will explain everything for you in time…just not tonight.” 

 

The storm in Leuthil’s eyes calmed, like a ravaging sea consoled with dawn. Though her expression was still weary she nodded and slowly walked to the open arms of her husband. Thranduil closed his embrace around her. He could sense her fear and it broke his heart. It had become increasingly hard to hold each other with her big belly blocking their way, but they tried none the less and she leaned her cheek on Thranduil’s strong chest. His heart hammered steadily under her ear. The King smelled of dust and blood.

 

***

 

They walked in utter silence as they descended the many snake like staircase to reach the deepest part of the dungeons where the worst cells were located. Galdor was fully armed and his sword made small noises when it met the hilt of his dagger. Thranduil thought it was over preparation but he could not blame the Steward. They had underestimated Morey many times and Thranduil could not criticize how Galdor felt the need to be ready for anything, especially now that the King wanted to talk to the prisoner alone and in absence of any sentry, with only his closest friend for protection. However the Sindar did not think Morey would do anything stupid. She had been calm and obedient during the journey and the sentries did not report any misbehavior or escape attempt on her part. Thranduil could only assume the bitch had better plans.

 

They reached a corridor, dimly lit by a few torches. At the entrance two guards were at their post. They bowed at the King as he passed. If they were surprised or alarmed by the King going to the dangerous prisoner with only Galdor as company they did not show it. Their stoic faces reminded Thranduil of the stone statues of Rivendell. They entered the corridor. There were three doors on their left, made of solid stone with hinges made of the strongest metal; these doors were enchanted by the Elvenking. No force could break the open and only one key could open them.

 

The ceiling of the corridor was leaking the water that flowed through the entire stronghold. The smell of mineral in the said water was the strongest here; the scent of iron, stone and salt. Thranduil both loved and hated the smell. It was the scent he had come to associate with his home; but it was also a bitter reminder of how he was forced to reside inside a mountain, miles beneath the earth and away from the trees and the forest. The sound of the water falling down in drops wracked his nerves. He wanted to be done with this business faster so with his head he indicated for the Steward to open the door.

 

Galdor produced the key from his pocket and turned it in the lock. The lock opened with a click, the door swung inside with a disgusting whine and they walked inside. Morey’s condition reminded the King so much of how Erhan had looked in his last days in the prison. Though the former sentry had been given much better cells. Morey was sitting on the stone bench. Her feet were bound by iron shackles as well as her hands. The chain hanging from the shackles were attached to the walls and were also enchanted not to give in to force. The length allowed her to move a limited distance. She had one leg up and had leaned her head on her knee. She looked up when the door open; frowning in the attack of light.

 

“The King has decided to visit me personally!” she smirked as they walked in. “I’m flattered.”

 

“Indeed you should be…” Thranduil mumbled as he waited for Galdor to fix one of the torches from the corridor on the handle made for it on the wall of the cell.

When finally done a shaking light illuminated the small cell and the prisoner residing in it. Thranduil could now see how filthy her black hair and pale skin was and he could clearly note the dark circles under her eyes; witnesses of great exhaustion. Normally he would have felt some sort of a pity but for this elleth he felt nothing but hatred.

 

“I see you’ve brought your pet as well…” She said glancing at Galdor and then looking back at the King. “Are you scared of me Thranduil?”

 

“Better to be cautious while handling a dog with rabies…” the King replied, feeling the vibes of anger coming from Galdor. He ignored it and instead he observed the wench head to toe like a patron buying a horse.

 

“The Shackles look good on you!” Thranduil commented flatly.

 

Morey shifted in her place causing the Steward to shuffle behind him. But she remained seated, only a disgusting lecherous look settled on her face. “I always looked good in shackles…” she purred. “Especially when you bounded me with them to your bed and made love to me that way when you wished for a more playful fucking!”

 

Thranduil tensed. He clawed at his robe where his hand was hidden under his crossed arms over his chest. But it was her next words that truly enticed his anger.

“Does your pretty wife know about this exciting side of your character?” she asked mockingly.

 

Thranduil did not know what overcame him. Only Leuthil’s mention on her lips was enough to have him launching towards her and in a moment he was batting the wench with his bare hands. “DON’T SAY HER NAME!” he yelled as his fist and palm smacked everywhere he could reach on her body. The sound of his hand slapping bare skin was sickening and yet gave him some sort of satisfaction that he was causing this evil wretched creature pain. It was Galdor who at last stopped him. 

 

“Stop Thranduil…” he yelled as he shoved the King away from Morey. “You’ll kill her.”

 

“Let go of me!” the King hissed pushing Galdor off himself. Yet he did not attack the elleth again instead he tried to calm himself with a few really deep breaths. Morey recovered as well as she crawled on the bench again as she wiped the blood from her nose and face; grimacing from the pain of the assault.

 

“Pity…” She sighed melodramatically. “The prince I remember would have never laid a finger on an elleth who has no means of protecting herself.”

 

“The prince you remember died…” Thranduil approached and yelled in her face. “When I was forced to kill the men who defiled my sister; when I laid my daughter in her grave!”

 

He turned away from her not able to tolerate her indifferent gaze. He could not fathom how one could remain so unmoved; how she could be so heartless. And on the other side he was shaking with emotions; he was sweating as if he was the one who had to be ashamed. When he looked back at her, she was still where he had left her looking straight at him with green eyes.

Suddenly Thranduil felt extremely tired. He was emotionally exhausted and he could no longer put up a strong composure.

 

“Why did you do all these?” he sighed. “So much hatred; such vengeance…just because I ordered you to leave on that cursed night?”

 

To that she only smirked, and the King was surprised to see the sadness that passed her eyes. But she gave no explanation as she looked away from him.

 

“ _I_ was your enemy…” Thranduil said and he knew his voice was broken. “Why then did you murder my _daughter_ …?”

 

At that Morey looked back at him. This very question was the truth Thranduil had wanted to know for so long. Children were scarce among the first born and thus invaluable. Elves never hurt the kids. Children had to be left out in animosities. But Morey had not spared his daughter; no matter how innocent Negaar had been in this whole ordeal.

 

“I confess that I had not predicted her death…” Morey explained flatly. “She was lateral damage of a bigger plan.”

 

“Lateral damage…” Thranduil repeated in a dangerously calm tone as if he wanted to taste the words in his mouth.

 

Two paces was all he needed to take to reach her again. He did not give Morey time even for a yelp as he seized her from the neck and lifted her along the wall, throttling her. Just like the first time they had caught her, choked breaths left her throat and tears ran down her face; Thranduil was surprised that she was able to shed them. Even Galdor did not try to dissuade him this time; so heartless her remarks had been.

Just as the King was tasting the sweetness of revenge on his tongue he heard someone enter the cell. And when he spoke he knew it was Galion.

 

“My lord you have you come!” the butler said.

 

“Did we not tell we need to be alone?” Thranduil heard Galdor chide. “The King will come later…”

 

“My lord please…” Galion begged. “You need to come, the Queen is in labor…”

 

Slowly the anger left Thranduil’s face leaving a bewildered expression instead. His fingers went numb around the white neck and he released Morey coughing and tossing as she was dropped gracelessly on the stone bench. Thranduil turned and searched Galion’s face. The poor butler was panting as if he had run a long distance to get him. His child was going to be born. And this time he had promised not to fail. He threw another glance at the pitiful elleth. “We’re not finished.” He declared before storming out of the cell.

 

***

 

Waiting; that was what Thranduil had always found harder than fighting an army of armed orcs. And the helplessness was even worst as he paced the corridor of the healing ward back and forth. From behind the wooden door came screams and anguished moans of his beloved and there was nothing he could do about it. When he thought about the fact that this pain was caused by the child he had planted in her, Thranduil wanted to throw up. He assumed the guilt was the burden he had to take as the pain of delivery was Leuthil’s.

 

Galdor was also there. He had ran to him after making sure Morey was securely locked away again. Thranduil knew it was awkward for the Steward to be there but the Sindar needed him to stay and the Silvan did not complain even if it was uncomfortable for him to hear the Queen’s cries. He stood in silence most of the time, but occasionally when restlessness would get the better of the King, the Steward interfered and tried to calm him with a soothing hand on his back or whispered nonsense in his ears. It worked to some extent but Thranduil knew Galdor was just as inexperienced and helpless as himself. He desperately felt the need to have a parent beside him and his logical mind chided him for being such a pathetic old elf.

 

It was these kind of moments when he felt the absence of Alheru more. Though strict and sometimes rough, the Lord had managed to replace his own father in some aspects. Thranduil had been inclined to lean on his wisdom and fatherly guidance. With Alheru gone he had become an orphan once again. The King felt he was not the only one who felt like this. Aleth, Leuthil, Galdor, Miklovand…they were all alone and parentless; left to wander around with their own wisdom to guide them. A shiver ran down his spine when he thought the little one that would hopefully get born today would look up to _him_ for guidance.   

 

The sound of cries were gone abruptly. Thranduil’s heart dropped in his chest and he could swear it was beating somewhere around his navel. Cold sweat settled on his brow and for him it took ages to wait for that damn door to open even though it was merely seconds. Aleth appeared at the door, wiping her hands and looking tired but she had a smile on her face.

Seeing his brother who was white as the sheets she chuckled. “They are alright…” she assured happily. “Both of them…”

 

Thranduil let out a breath he had not known he had been holding until then. He fought the urge to collapse on the floor and cry like a baby. Along the bad things that happened in his life the good things had to always come through a hard way as well. But he was not complaining. His child was born, and his wife was alright…that was all he wanted for now. The Sindar felt the strong hand of his friend on his shoulder and he smiled back at Galdor’s grin.

 

“Can I see them?” Thranduil asked his sister.

 

“The maids are cleaning up…” Aleth replied. “Wait a few moments, the mess is not for your eyes to see…”

 

Thranduil assumed she was right. So he waited patiently. Though it was easier than the previous waiting, it was still hard since hordes of butterflies flew in his stomach.

“The realm has an heir after all…” Aleth finally remarked.

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened like two round apples. His breath broke in his throat. So engaged he had been with his hard affairs that he had not given thought about the gender of his child even once. He had been so consumed in trying to find the murderer of his daughter that he had been snatched away from the beautiful dilemmas of this world. And now he was blessed with a son. Somewhere inside a great fear settled in his heart. He would have to be careful not to treat him like his father had treated himself.

 

At last Aleth glanced inside and granted him entrance. Thranduil went in alone. The bed was clean and the sheets were changed. Leuthil was settled with her back leaning on the headboard, looking really comfy among the many pillows; though she was exhausted and the dark circles around her eyes were proof to that. But even with that dampen hair plastering to her forehead she looked so beautiful to him. She smiled widely when she saw him and opened her arms for him; and who was Thranduil to deny such an invitation.

 

He crossed the room with a few long strides and hugged his wife. He had been so afraid to lose her that holding her warm body was almost unbelievable. He kissed her everywhere he reached and it made her giggle reminding Thranduil a time long ago when she too had been young like him. They broke apart when Aleth brought their child forward; washed and cleaned and wrapped in a warm blanket. Leuthil took him in her arms. To Thranduil he was just a red puffy mess but even then he felt a love settle in his heart that it was threatening to explode his chest. He stoke his son’s cheek with only one finger; the King wanted to weep not from how fragile he was but how his world had suddenly been centered on his son.

 

“How can such a small creature…” he whispered his thoughts. “Consume so much of my love…”

 

“What about me?” Leuthil teased, her own voice wavering from tears.

 

“You already are my whole life…” the King assured as he kissed her lips.

 

They watched their son for a long while and Thranduil was thankful that no one disturbed their moments.

“I’ve decided for his name…” the Queen finally announced, looking very smug.

 

“I thought it was the father’s right to name the child!” Thranduil protested.

 

“It is…” Leuthil said shrewdly. “But I’m sure you will willingly give up that right to me if you hear what I’ve chosen.”

 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “Well let’s hear it then…”

 

“Legolas…” the Queen declared proudly.

 

It evoked pictures of the forest in its more beautiful days; green and wild. Leuthil watched his expression with amusing anxiety. And when he smiled she broke into a grin. “Alright then…” he assured. “My will is thinner than a strand of hair when you order something my Queen.”

 

He smirked when Leuthil giggled again and hugged his small family tighter. The King wished for these simple moments never to end; for the outside world never to exist. Aleth approached them after a while, she produced a silver brooch from a box and fixed it on the Legolas’ blankets while the parents watched.

“It’s a small gift from me and Galdor…” she explained. “To shoo the bad luck away.”

 

Thranduil rolled his eyes from the superstitions which granted him deadly glares from the girls. After a faint knock on the door Galdor poked his head inside and entered when he thought he was not intruding their privacy.

“Congratulations my lady…” he grinned.

 

“Thank you Galdor…” Leuthil smiled.

 

The Steward then turned to Thranduil. “The news of the Queen going into labor has spread like wildfire…” he said. “People have gathered, they wish to know the result. Shall I tell them or would you like to tell them yourself?”

 

“You can tell them…I wish to stay here for a while.” Thranduil said as he settled more comfortably on his wife’s side. “Also, I wish for feasts to be arranged in every part of the realm; flow the wine and food and fireworks…no village must be neglected.”

 

“Pretentious!” Leuthil teased lowly which made the girls giggle and Thranduil glare.

 

Galdor smiled at the scene. It was so easy to go back to the easy days of their lives when they used to picnic around the river that passed through the previous capital. He thought they might be able to do it again. It might help with their sour mood and burdened hearts.

 

 

***

 

Thranduil felt like a signing machine as Galdor slipped document after document under his hand for his signature. Of course he had read all of them at some time last week but he wouldn’t be lying if he said he had none of them in mind. Just a nagging sense of responsibility had finally drawn him to his study to lessen the mountain of paper work massing on his desk. Only three days had passed since the birth of his son but so much work had been loaded. Besides, there were other matters in his dungeons he needed to attend to as well.

 

“So how’s fatherhood?” Galdor finally asked as he placed another parchment on the desk.

 

“I would know if Leuthil allowed me to hold him for more than a couple of seconds!” Thranduil commented which made Galdor chuckle lightly. “It’s scary though…” the King continued. “To have a son.”

 

“Why?” the Steward questioned.

 

“Girls have fairer spirits and less thirst for danger…” Thranduil sat back and sighed. “But boys are different. How am I going to hold him back when the curiosity for the world grows in his heart?” He rubbed his eyes and looked up at an abstract point on the wall. “I fear ending up like my father…”

 

Galdor decided that no more work could be done then and placed the files away. He then sat on a short stool near the King’s chair. “You are not your father…” the Steward reminded.

 

“Sometimes I wished I was!” Thranduil chuckled bitterly. “He would have known what to do with the bitch in the dungeons.”

 

“I think you already know what to do…” Galdor shrugged. “You just won’t admit it to yourself.”

 

“It’s just so much easier to strangle her!” Thranduil gritted his teeth. “She took lives with no hesitation. Why should she have a trial?”

 

“It is not about her…” Galdor said rationally, placing a firm hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “It is about the realm. By bringing about the concept of an independent law house, you did something pioneer to our time. No monarchy has such a thing.” The Steward continued. “You should at least respect it yourself.”

 

“Well whatever you want to decide, you better do it faster!”

 

Miklovand’s voice made them jump. He had literary appeared out of nowhere and was standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed across his chest. Galdor could swear the door had not been open before. By Thranduil’s outrage he could sense the King was angered by this intrusion as well. The Sindar jumped from his seat to his full height.

“This is not a public area for you to come in and go as you wish Miklovand!” he growled.

 

“Yes your majesty!” Miklovand bowed his head but walked forward nonetheless. “Pardon my intrusion but I came here to inform you that whatever the decision you ought to take for the elleth has to be done faster. Questions are being asked about the unknown prisoner in the cells.” He repeated. “A few more days and we can no longer keep it a secret and the news will travel like wild fire…you will then have the weight of public opinion added to you burdens.”

 

Thranduil calmed a bit but glared at his step-brother nonetheless. Slowly he walked to the pitcher and poured himself some wine. He circled the glass in his long fingers and watched the red liquid role around the cup. All the while the other two waited for him to think.

 

“I will speak with her for the last time tonight…” the King finally declared. “Then she will have a trial…”

 

Thranduil could literary hear Galdor give out a shuddered breath. But Miklovand was frowning at him.

“The bitch killed your daughter…” he said. “How can you give her a trial!?”

 

The temperature of Thranduil’s blood rose just by the mention of his dead baby and his fingers grabbed the cup firmer. But he said nothing. His own doubt and anger was too much to handle right now and he had to fight Miklovand’s reasoning as well.

“Oropher would have beheaded her at first sight!” Miklovand exhaled.

 

“I am not my father…” Thranduil looked back at him sharply.

 

“No you are not!” Miklovand agreed bitterly. “If you were half the king your father was that wench would have been dead long before she touched your family.”

 

“Miklovand!” Galdor protested as he launched from his seat threateningly, but Thranduil stopped him midway by raising his hand, his gaze never left his brother’s.

 

“Your opinion is respected as always…” the King said flatly. “Now leave…”

 

“At least you tolerate criticism…” the Captain smirked as he bowed his head. “I give you that one.”

 

He then walked back and retreated from the study. Thranduil broke the glass in his hand on the nearest wall just as the door closed and then cursed at the mess he had made.

 

“Why do you do this!?” Galdor lashed out ignoring the broken glass. “Why do you let him say anything he wishes?”

 

“Because I rather have him say it in my face than him becoming an enemy behind my back!” Thranduil growled, poured himself another glass of wine and downed it in one attempt.

 

***

 

  Thranduil opened the door to the royal chambers silently. It was still early evening so he did not actually fear waking Leuthil but he had heard her sing and did not want to disturb. His wife tended to sing when alone but she always stopped when she learned someone was listening. To him, she had the most ethereal voice that he rarely found the pleasure of listening to it.

 

The King stood in the doorframe and did not go further inside. Leuthil had her back to the door so she could not see him. She was holding a blanket, probably containing their baby. She was singing a lullaby for him as she swayed her arms slowly. Thranduil closed his eyes and listened. A bitter happiness settled in his heart. He was lucky to have them but he wished the entire world would leave them be. But the King knew that was a luxury he would never have. Before he was ready Leuthil’s singing abruptly stopped.

 

“Why are you standing there?” her question reached him.

 

Thranduil opened his eyes reluctantly and approached his wife. “I was listening to you…”

 

To his amusement Leuthil blushed. He chuckled and kissed her. Then he leaned and kissed his son. Legolas looked up at him with huge curious eyes that resembled his mothers. He gave his father a toothless smile with a lot of drool. Thranduil chuckled and could not resist kissing him again.

Leuthil took a small step closer to him, as if she wanted to make a place for herself in his warmth. He circled his arms around her and embraced her fair form, their baby between them. They needed no words. They both knew they had an unknown and perhaps dark future ahead. It was not hard to tell so by the evil descending around them. But they loved each other and they hoped for it to be enough.

 

“I should go…” Thranduil finally sighed, reluctantly letting go of his little family.

 

“Can you not stay?” the Queen asked and Thranduil hated the begging in her voice.

 

“I will try to come soon…” he promised and placed a last kiss on her lips.

 

Thranduil was grateful that she no longer asked about the business that kept him away. He knew it ate at her but she respected his wish. It had become a silent agreement. She did not ask and he did not tell. Thranduil knew he had to come clean eventually but he could not tell what Leuthil’s reaction would be to knowing the master mind behind all their miseries was the elleth her husband used to sleep with.

So again Thranduil did not try to explain and with a longing smile he left the room for the nasty business in the dungeons.

 

 

Galdor was already waiting for him there and Thranduil was thankful. The Steward had a deep frown on his brow showing his foul mood. The King was no better. The guard opened up the cell and they walked inside with no words exchanged. The guard knew they needed privacy so he left for the main corridor without being asked.

 

Inside the cell was dark as always, but it was illuminated by the light coming from the fireworks outside. Thranduil had ordered feasts to take place in every single settlement of his land for the birth of his son and heir. The festive had continued for many days and still his people lighted fireworks at nights. They seemed to enjoy the merriment so the King did not see it necessary to stop them. His subjects would eventually get tiered and leave the matter be. Besides the fireworks kept the spiders away.

 

Morey was standing on the stone bench on her tiptoes. She barely reached the tiny hole in the wall one could call a window. She had placed her eye on the hole and was watching the show outside. The black haired elleth did not even turn when they entered. As Thranduil watched her struggle to have a glimpse of what was happening outside he thought of how earthly and normal she looked. At that moment no one could really tell they were dealing with a maniac murderer.

 

“You came at last…” she commented without taking her eyes off the show.

 

Thranduil did not answer. He waited for Galdor to close the door of the cell and place the lantern on the floor. Meanwhile Morey finally decided to turn towards them and she hopped off the stone bench, the shackles around her ankles sang dramatically.

 

“Congratulations…” she smirked. “I heard it’s a boy.” Then as if in answer to his silent question she waved her hand in the air in a dismissive way. “Your guards talk too much and this cell can become really boring…”

 

“I’ve not come here to chit chat with you Morey…” The King said firmly.

 

“Then _why_ are you here?” the elleth asked in the most suggestive way that nauseated Thranduil.

 

“I had thought to have you killed silently and be done with it…” The King said. “But then I changed my mind. You should have a trial as it is the right of all my subjects.”

 

“The trial’s verdict is clear to me already as I’m sure it is to you…” Morey smirked. “You just want to buy yourself reputation and have me publicly humiliated…nice play!”

 

“You will be given the chance to defend yourself…” Thranduil said firmer, ignoring her comment. “However if you tell me who else worked for you in the palace; if you give me the name of the one who supported you…I promise to influence the court to your benefit as much as I can.”

 

“…and then ship me off to Valinor for the judgement of the Valar, just like you did with Erhan.” Morey said as if she was bored. “I’m sorry Thranduil…but your offer is less than tempting.”

 

Thranduil assumed it was reasonable for her to fear Valinor. She had done so many evil deeds. It was a lost game for her and Thranduil truly had nothing more to offer her. He would have to settle for his own wit and find the other culprit without her help.

The King approached her with an emotionless mask. He could feel Galdor’s alarm but he did not care. Morey was no longer in a position to hurt him. He looked into her green eyes with all the intensity of his hatred.

“Then die…” he whispered to her. “And die painfully for all I care…”

 

He then turned away from her dirty and weary face, determined never to see her again except for when watching her being hanged. As nauseating as it was he would quite enjoy watching her choke to death. She had after all taken everything from him. But his wish for not seeing her again was not granted as Morey called after him before he reached the door.

 

“If I die, my secrets die with me…” she said flatly. “And you shall never know where your daughter is.”

 

Thranduil froze. His mind was not responding. He could not even understand what she was talking about. The first thing that came to his mind was the absurd thought of Negaar being alive. It shoot sparks of heat in his body. But he reminded himself that he had held her dead body himself and placed her in her tiny grave with his own hands. A shiver ran down his spine by the remembrance but he tried to ignore it. Still he could not fathom what Morey was referring to and before he knew the King had turned back to face her.

 

“What are you talking about?” he asked puzzled and annoyed. “My daughter is dead.”

 

“You’re mutual child with your little queen is indeed yet, I don’t dare deny that.” Morey smirked. “I am talking about another daughter; born from the fire we once had for one another.”

 

Thranduil’s heart sank in. He could not digest the words she was saying as if Morey was talking in a language he had never heard. Her words were absurd. But Morey seemed serious as she took a step towards him and gazed in his eyes.

 

“You lie…” that was all that found its way out of his throat and his own voice seemed broken and foreign to him.

 

“Do you really think that I would have started such a virulent game of revenge just for unrequited love or rejection of a young prince that slept with every being he saw?” Morey asked with a hint of mockery in her tone. “Even I am not that crazy.”

 

Thranduil did not know why but he took a step back as if putting distance between himself and Morey would lessen the impact of this new information. His rational mind told him that she was clearly lying, but in his heart he knew she was not. Her eyes; green like the leaves of the trees, held the bitterness of truth in them and Thranduil had lived a long time to know the boldness of reality. But still his tongue was not his own and denial was easier when his throat was exploding from the suffocating lump.

 

“You lie…” he shook his head. Breathing was becoming hard.

 

“That night I had come to tell you about it. I had come with a thousand wishes and hopes…I was no fool, I knew you didn’t love me. But I had thought we could build a family…” she explained. “But your heart was elsewhere. You did not even give me time to explain as you threw me out like a dog; _I_ who was carrying your child…” she continued, and then tears formed in her own eyes from the memories. “…and then you went to war. Your mother had me removed from court saying that my reputation was not proper for such titles. I was left with no money and no place to stay and a child that was growing in me.” By this time she was sobbing, and Thranduil’s head was spinning. “A family took me in from the cold winter and allowed me to stay there with only one condition; to give my child to them when born.”

 

The world circled and Thranduil had to place his hand on the wall of the cell to steady himself. As if awakened from a daze Galdor came to his side but Thranduil couldn’t even feel his hand on his shoulder or hear his voice in his ear. All he could hear was the things Morey continued to explain in screams and sobs. These were too much to digest so fast.

 

“I had no choice…” she cried. “Can you imagine the pain? The agony I felt when they took her away from me…?”

 

Before he knew Thranduil launched forward and grabbed the rags she had on. She gave a yelp of surprised when she was pulled violently close. “So you don’t know where she is?” Thranduil yelled.

 

“Do you think I truly abandoned her?” Morey laughed and it was so hysteric that the King feared the elleth had truly lost her mind. “I followed her every move, I watched from the shadows when she took her first steps…or when she learned to read...I watched her become a lady.” Morey was calmer now and for an instance she looked so deep in Thranduil’s eyes that left the King shaken. “She has your eyes.” The elleth whispered.

 

Thranduil let go of her, or better to say strength left his fingers. Morey fell to the floor of the cell but the King did not care. His mind was somewhere else. He did not even hear when Galdor called him, worried about his wellbeing as he must have looked like someone coming back from the halls of Mandos.

When first he had finally found that Morey was the person he was looking for and then when he had caught her successfully Thranduil had felt like waking from a long dream; someone else’s dream. It was as if he had managed to wake up from the nightmares the war, his father and then Morey had weaved for him. It had felt like freedom; like for the first time he had the will of his own. But then this news, this truth had come. And now it was as if he had closed his eyes again and dropped back into the same nightmare.

Somewhere in Middle-Earth; perhaps deep within his vast realm, in an unknown place, within the confines of an unknown house lived a girl…who he could call his daughter and the only means of finding her was the elleth who had been the cause behind the death of his other child.

 

 


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my apologies are becoming lame but I truly am sorry for the delays, but I'm handling many things at once.  
> As always your reviews makes me very happy and motivated.

The Captain of the guard descended the stairs with an air of something around him. One could not tell what it exactly was but it was definitely a combination of power, anger and urgency. Miklovand was a tall elf. Maybe not as tall as Thranduil for the Elvenking’s fathers where Sindar and thus they had the privilege of extraordinary height but the Captain was considered tall among the Silvan to whom he thought his blood went back to though he could never be sure. It was a hard thing to know his own parents never wanted him. Oropher had tried to kill that thought in his mid as a child but had failed to do so. It was a fact; otherwise why would a couple or a mother leave their child in the snow to die. If they didn’t have the wealth to raise a child they could have at least found him a family to take custody like Morey had done. Miklovand had tried to deal with it, and his foster father had been helpful; unlike his step-brother. As an elfling Miklovand was never a popular child. Thranduil consumed all the fame and love from the others. But it was the affection of Oropher he always sought and never found because of his wayward methods. Miklovand on the other had was the exact contrary. He had his father’s respect and love though he may not have been that popular. As he grew up Miklovand liked to think he found his way in the ways of popularity. He had his own share of admirers and he was respected and highly esteemed in his position as the Captain. Even Thranduil could not deny that.

 

But his position was in danger. He could feel it. Though he had taken a passive attitude towards Morey’s imprisonment he knew that she would be his downfall if he wouldn’t do something about it. The elleth would spill out all the secrets and with that Miklovand had to literary run for his life. For now he had to observe Morey’s attitude so that he may predict her next move. It was not easy though. The elleth was all the possible meanings of psychopath.

 

The guards at the dungeons corridor tensed when they heard him approach but then they relaxed slightly as they recognized who he was. They gave him a slight bow of the head.

 

“Open the door…” Miklovand ordered when he reached them.

 

The two sentries exchanged a concerned look before one of them replied. “My Lord, it’s forbidden to open the door to anyone.”

 

“I’m not anyone…” the Captain snapped.

 

“But the King…” the sentry protested weakly.

 

“I am the King’s _brother_!” Miklovand nearly yelled which caught the other two off guard. “The King will remove you both from your positions if he hears you’ve disobeyed me.”

 

The sentries fell into silence as they nearly pleaded Miklovand not to force them to open the door. But at last the one with the keys opened the lock and the Captain walked inside, still glaring at the two.

 

The corridor was lit with huge torches. The light danced on the walls as one of the guards walked to the cell where they kept Morey. When he was done. Miklovand grabbed the handle and with his head he ordered the sentry to stay outside but the guard did not move.

 

“I have to at least take your weapons my Lord!” he explained with a voice that was wavering but showed great courage.

 

Miklovand was tempted to argue but thought better of it. He took out his sword from its sheath and handed it to the guard and then he gave him his several knives. When the sentry was satisfied he murmured an apology and walked away, probably standing behind the doors of the main corridor.

 

Miklovand inhaled deeply before entering. The door gave a whine as it swung open revealing the dark and damp cell. The sound of water drops falling from the ceiling was nerve wracking. He peered through the dark to find the prisoner sat on the stone bench, her green eyes piercing him.

 

“Look who finally decided to pay me a visit…” Morey commented as she stood. The shackles around her ankles made threatening sounds matching her aggressive look. “What took you so long?”

 

“I’m not your servant Morey…” Miklovand briefed harshly. “ _You_ are the prisoner. This is my home, I come and go as I will.”

 

“You will no longer have a will when I open my mouth and tell Thranduil who the real murderer of his precious daughter is!” Morey threatened as she took a step closer.

 

“How predictable of you to threaten me!” Miklovand smirked, though in his heart there was a war.

 

“You’ve left me no choice…” the elleth said. “If you’d warned me that Thranduil was coming for me, it wouldn’t have gone this far.”

 

“We separated for different paths long ago…” Miklovand reminded. “I had no obligation to warn you…”

 

“True…” Morey shrugged. “But now you have your own life to save.”

 

Miklovand was really tempted to kill the elleth before him with his bare hands. His fingers twitched on his sides but he resisted the urge. He couldn’t be the one to kill her. It was too suspicious.

“What do you want?” he asked with all the fervor of his hatred.

 

Morey smirked. “Help me escape this cell…” she said. “Find my daughter, and find us a way to run away from Mirkwood.”

 

“Where will you go?” Miklovand asked. “You can hardly find a place around here that is not under the influence of Thranduil, Galardiel or Elrond…”

 

“That is for me to decide…” Morey said. “We will head for the south…Gondor or perhaps Rohan, I’ve learned how to live with men.”

 

Miklovand thought for a while. But all the thoughts were whirling images in his mind.

“I need time…” he finally said.

 

“Well I have none to spare…” the elleth said flatly. “Knowing that he has a daughter from me, Thranduil will delay the execution for a while but I can’t know how long…so you better hurry up!”

 

Miklovand nodded. He turned to leave but on the doorway he halted and turned back towards Morey.

“Where is your daughter…?” he asked.

 

At that Morey laughed. “Do you think I will tell you the only secret that is keeping me alive?” she chuckled. “Take me out of here, only then I will tell you.”

 

***

_Thranduil was back there again. He knew this place by now. He had ended up here every night after allowing his eyes to rest. It was his palace; the stronghold he had built. But it was a deserted. One could tell no one had lived here for ages. Wayward plants had grown everywhere and the only movement was the leaves moving in the wind. The dust was proof to the many years this place had been abandoned._

_A cold shiver ran down his spine as he walked up the stairs of the main entrance. The stone statues of the gates had lost their façade after so long under snow and rain. Inside the air was suffocating. It was dark and the torches had been off for many years. The dried leaves crushed under Thranduil’s boots as he walked in the entrance hall of his once glorious palace._

_His heart was a ball of ice inside his chest. He remembered many memories from this place; bad and good; feasts and funerals. Thranduil could not bear to see it like this. So he turned to leave._

_“Adar…”_

_Though none of his children had ever reached the age to call him that name, Thranduil still froze. The voice had been soft and unfamiliar; definitely belonging to a female. He turned back and peered at the direction of the sound. Up on the left staircase stood the only living being he had seen in this place despite himself; an elleth._

_She was tall and slender, with a bony face and pronounced cheekbones. Her pale skin was complimented by hair as dark as moonless night; and her aquamarine eyes smiled at him. Without knowing Thranduil ascended the stairs. His feet took him to the elleth as if they had the will of their own and he stopped a step lower than her so that their heights were almost the same. He gazed at her eyes and wondered how strange it was to look at his own eyes on another face. Could it be that this elleth was truly his daughter? Terrifying hope began to uncurl in his chest. Could it be that his daughter was not dead? Could it be that he could hold her one more time…? Watch her, protect her._

_“Negaar?” he whispered before he could stop himself, his tone had endless hopes written on it._

_The elleth laughed. Her eyes narrowed as she did and Thranduil loved it._

_“No…” She said after a while, her voice echoing in the empty hall. “I am your daughter from a previous bonding.”_

_It took Thranduil a few moments of vertiginous thinking before recognition sank in his heart. His breath hitched in his throat. Before he knew she turned on her heel and started running away from him. He stretched his hands to catch her dress but it slipped out of his fingers like water. He tried to run after her but noticed the stairs were melting into liquid._

_Horrified he tried to climb up before completely drowning. Once he reached the upper floor he started running after the girl. The plants began moving and their flexible thin branches curled around his ankles and made him fall. He took out his knife to cut the plants but learned the knife had no blade. Her laughter echoed in the halls. More plants curled around his chest. He let out a shriek of desperation._

 

Thranduil woke up from his own screaming. Immediately he sat on the bed. It took him a few moments to realize that he was in his chamber and all was well. Well, as well as it could be concerning their situation. He was panting like he had ran a hundred miles. His throat was dry and itchy and he was covered in cold sweat head to toe. His horrified eyes scanned the room. He found Legolas’ cradle and was grateful that he had not awaken the baby.

 

“What’s wrong…?”

 

Leuthil’s hand on his shoulder made him jump despite her tenderness. He must’ve awakened her. She looked sleepy and yet she was worried.

 

“Nothing…” he said hoarsely. “Just a dream…”

 

“You mean another nightmare…” the elleth said as she got out of bed, an air of annoyance around her. She circled the bed and came to Thranduil’s side. Taking the pitcher she poured him a glass of water. He nodded a thanks and drank it.

 

“These nightmares of yours are becoming regular…” Leuthil commented as she took back the glass from him and placed it on the bedside table. “They started a little after you came back from your secret expedition.”

 

Thranduil did not like the stinging tone when she pronounced “Secret” but he did not remark on it. It was her way of telling him she was not happy that he was not telling her some things. He did not comment on the truth about his nightmares as well. Thranduil merely sank back in the bed and slumped an arm over his eyes, releasing a sigh.

He felt Leuthil sit on his side of the bed as the mattress went down only slightly. He could sense her words in the air before she phrased them.

 

“Are you not going to tell me what’s going on?” Leuthil finally asked. “At least you will feel lighter…”

 

“I will tell you in time…” Thranduil murmured, eyes tightly shut under his own arm. How could he tell her such a thing? Stand in front her and tell her that the murderer of her beloved baby was an elleth he had slept with and made pregnant and then left out to her own devices to give birth to another daughter whom he had no idea of her whereabouts. How could one explain such things?

 

“And when is that time?” Leuthil asked, frustration in her voice.

 

“I don’t know…” the King replied honestly.

 

He heard the Queen sigh and her weigh was lifted from the side of the mattress. She walked back to the other side and slumped down on the sheets. Moments passed in heavy silence.

 

“I am scared…” she said into the darkness of the room. “Since keeping secrets has never worked between us…”

 

To the truth of that fact Thranduil had nothing to say. Somehow the heaviness of the burden on his shoulders seemed to have duplicated.

 

***

 

The noise of the sewing machines were deafening. Almost a hundred of them were working on the same time as the ellith in the sewing workshop sew the clothes and tapestries and many other things. Though the sound was loud the work usually helped the Queen get some of the disturbing thoughts off her mind, at least for a few hours. But that day her mind was far away as her hands worked on the small clothes for Legolas. She had even managed to penetrate her finger three times with the needles and now she was having a serious problem in passing a string through the hole of the needle. At the tenth attempt she huffed exasperatedly and threw the needle on the desk.

 

“Do you need help with that?”

 

Aleth appeared out of nowhere and she had apparently observed the Queen’s attitude. She grabbed the needle and the string and did the job for Leuthil.

“Thank you…” the brunette sighed as she took the needle from Aleth careful not to sting her with it.

 

Aleth smiled as she pulled a stool close and sat near her friend. She looked at the Queen intently. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

 

“Nothing…” Leuthil lied.

 

“After all these years you still have the nerve to lie to me…!” Aleth smirked.

 

At last Leuthil set aside her work and looked back at her friend.

“It’s Thranduil…” she said. “He’s hiding something from me again…”

 

“Have you talked to him about it?” Aleth questioned.

 

“I did…” the Queen sighed. “He did not deny it but said he would tell me on the right time…it all began from that day they sneaked out of the palace.” She then looked up at her friend hopefully. “Has Galdor said anything to you…?”

 

“He doesn’t usually share these matters with me…” Aleth shrugged. “But perhaps it’s about this prisoner they are keeping in the dungeons…”

 

“What prisoner?” Leuthil sat straight, giving Aleth her full attention.

 

“I don’t really know the details. Jansu told me that the other maids told her that the guards had told them that they are keeping a very dangerous prisoner in the dungeons under strict security.” The Princess explained, waving her hand in the air. “But you know how the guards like to boast and the maids like to gossip…I don’t think it’s even true.”

 

But Leuthil was deep in thought. Who could be in the dungeons to have Thranduil be so secretive and careful? This prisoner was important for some reason that the King was being hyper sensitive about it.

 

“A rumor is never without a root…” Leuthil murmured.

 

Aleth shrugged as she stood from her stool. “I learned that meddling in the affairs of the state does not work well…” she said. “If Thranduil is keeping it from you then perhaps there is a reason behind it.”

The Princess then patted her friend on the shoulder and walked away to a novice learner who was having trouble with sewing something. Sometimes Leuthil found herself envying Aleth. The things that happened to her changed her; made a stronger person out of her. But the Queen felt the opposite about herself. Aleth had tried hard and had built an almost calm life for herself. She had Galdor and though she had lost a child at birth she had Kyan, and cared for the boy like he was her own son.

 

Leuthil watched Aleth help the young elleth but was not actually seeing. Her mind was in the dungeons and many questions danced in her head. She did not know how much longer she could go on without knowing the answer to them.

 

***

 

That summer was not a warm one. As the Queen walked towards the graveyard she could already sense the chill of autumn. Or maybe it was not the chill of the weather she was feeling but the coldness in her soul. She felt this way whenever she came down to Haron hollow to visit the grave of her daughter. Leuthil did not come here often. She knew Thranduil came down here a lot more than her. She was happy that he could find a bit of solace here at the grave but Leuthil could not. Not only that cold grave did not calm her but she always felt the fire in her heart grow wild whenever she set eyes on that stone. Her thirst for revenge or at least some kind of payment for those who had hurt them became almost unbearable when she came here.

But here she was standing above the grave of her daughter alone in the quiet of the graveyard.

She remembered her mother once telling her that the worst curse of all was to lose one’s child. Leuthil had been cursed with that, she had been burned. The Queen could easily sense that Thranduil was calmer than her about this matter. As much as she reminded herself that he too was bereaved beyond imagination sometimes she could not help but feel disappointed by his passiveness. Perhaps Oropher was right all the time. Perhaps Thranduil was indeed too soft hearted for this world.

 

Leuthil felt bad for thinking these things. She had to remind herself that this was not Thranduil’s weakness but it was perhaps a good thing. A sign that showed he still had tenderness in him despite all the things that had happened to them. This was much more than what Leuthil could say for herself. The hardship had changed her and she admitted it. She was not one made for such a life. Despite being from a noble family, Leuthil was at the end a simple Silvan. She was no royal. She was not trained for a life of hard decisions, conspiracies and a deathly games of succession. She had tried to adapt herself. But not only she did not feel adapted but she felt she had lost her Silvan roots as well. She was no longer the kind and caring elleth she had once been nor was she the powerful and loyal Queen Thranduil needed beside him.

 

“My Lady…” a soft voice called her.

 

The Queen raised her head and was surprised to see Miklovand in front of him. He was wearing a simple tunic and worn out boots of training. The wind swung his black hair.

 

“My lord.” She acknowledged. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to visit the grave of a friend.” He answered pointing at the direction of a grave. “He fell during a patrol where we encountered a group of orcs.”

 

A look of sadness settled in Miklovand’s eyes. Leuthil gazed at him. Miklovand had always been so afar from them that she sometimes forgot that he too had a strange and twisted life. He was a lonesome elf. His loneliness had grown with the death of Oropher and after Aleth married Galdor it was as if he could never think seriously about another elleth. Leuthil knew that he had much popularity and admirers among ellith and that he often took random girls to bed but everyone knew these relationships never lasted and were never enough to fill the empty space he had in his life.

Since Thranduil and Miklovand were always rivals it was always easier for Leuthil to see the Captain as the bad guy. So she often forgot that he too had feelings. She often forgot that he too had friend’s he lost and grieved for.

 

“Was he close to you?” she asked. Miklovand nodded and threw another glimpse at the direction of the grave. “I’m sorry.” Leuthil whispered.

 

“I slayed the creature that took his life.” Miklovand fixed his black eyes on her. His eyes had a wild look in them. “I’d like to think he found peace knowing so.”

 

“I’ve never taken a life before.” Leuthil said gazing at the grave of her daughter as she confessed. “But if I find the true culprit of Negaar’s death I would gladly stain my hands with blood.”

 

“I know the pain of having a loved one unavenged.” Miklovand said with a firm voice. “But I promise you my lady; your daughter’s blood will not remain unpaid.”

 

Leuthil’s heart started pounding against her chest.

 “Do you know something Miklovand?” she asked, hardly breathing. “Is this about the prisoner in the dungeons?”

 

Something flashed across Miklovands eyes.

“I cannot say anything about that my Lady…” he said, and he turned to leave. Leuthil jumped forward and caught his arm. The Captain turned his face to look at her.

 

“Have they caught her?” she asked desperately; voice shaking. “Miklovand please tell me. Have they caught her?”

 

“Why don’t you ask your husband my lady…?” Miklovnad said as he released his arm and moved away. “He’s the only one allowed to talk.”

 

With that the Captain walked away leaving Leuthil in a worse shape than before.

 

***

 

“She says nothing!!!!” Thranduil growled like a mad lion as he slammed his fist on the desk sending a shock through the objects on it. He was exhausted. All his hours had been wasted on that bitch and he had been unable to pull a single word out of her. Thranduil did not have the heart to have her tortured. He only wished it did not come to that.

 

“Are you even sure she’s telling the truth?” Galdor said halfheartedly.

 

“She’s not lying.” Thranduil said firmly, wishing that he could indeed dismiss this news as a lie. “I can see it in her eyes. Fucking bitch.”

 

At the same moment the door of the study opened. Thranduil turned towards it to yell at anyone who dared enter without knocking but froze midway when he saw Leuthil in the threshold.

 

“My lady…” Galdor recovered first and bowed his head for the Queen though Thranduil did not miss the meaningful glance the Steward threw his way.

 

There was a reason behind Galdor’s look and Thranduil could clearly see it. Leuthil looked enraged. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes held a fire that could burn anything. And she panted as if she had ran a long way to reach them but Thranduil knew her better than this. Her breath was uneven from the rush of emotions going through her and those emotions could not be good.

 

“Leuthil. Is something wrong?” the King asked, suddenly worried. “Is Legolas alright?”

 

“Have you caught her?” Leuthil asked flatly ignoring his question.

 

For a moment Thranduil’s mind did not respond. “What?” he blurted out, frowning.

 

“That elleth.” The Queen spat the words. “The one who calls herself Malin. Is it her you are keeping in the dungeons?”

 

Silence fell between them for a few moments, heavy with anticipation. Thranduil exchanged a look with Galdor; though it did not help. Miklovand had warned them that the news would eventually spread and Thranduil had tarried too long for telling his wife.

 

“Yes.” He said at last and almost heard Leuthil suck in a choked breath. “I meant to tell you.”

 

“When?” the Queen hissed. Thranduil knew he had hurt her.

 

“When we were done interrogating her.” He replied.

 

Leuthil looked at him brokenly. She did not look satisfied with his explanation.

“Who is she?” she asked, and Thranduil hated how defeated she sounded.

He did not know what to tell her. He had already hurt her enough. If he explained everything it would wound her even more. It would kill her. Leuthil had had enough. Every time she achieved some form of happiness somehow his issues ruined it. Thranduil couldn’t tell her that he had a child from the murderer of their daughter. It would destroy her. And he could not predict what she would do then.

 

“You wouldn’t know…” he said before he could think more about it.

 

“We are investigating why she has done these things.” Galdor explained coming to his aid. Apparently the Steward agreed with his strategy. “When over, the public will be aware of her seizure.”

 

Leuthil looked at Galdor as he finished his explanation and then she turned her exhausted eyes back on her husband.

“You’re going to take her life after this, aren’t you?” She asked.

 

“She will have a trial.” Thranduil replied. “It will be on the jury to decide her fate.”

 

Leuthil narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“A trial? Have you lost your mind?” she exclaimed, losing all self-control. “Thranduil, this elleth killed the _princess_ of this land. She had _your_ daughter killed. She doesn’t deserve a trial.”

 

“She may not deserve it but it’s her right.” The King argued very much calmer than his wife which seemed to anger her even more.

 

Leuthil threw him a disgusted look. “No this is just because you want to shirk responsibility…Because you fear killing her.”

 

Her words stabbed him deep in the gut. But he tried to remain calm reminding himself that he was arguing with a mother that had lost a beloved child and was thirsty for revenge; for some kind of solace. So the King merely approached her and cupped her fiery face in his hands.

“My dear… I promise you, I will have our daughter avenged.” He said, looking Leuthil straight in the eyes. “She will pay for her deeds. But I need time and patience from you. Please.”

 

Leuthil looked at him with teary eyes for a long time but at last she nodded. He hated her defeated expression and her slumped shoulders. As if in a daze she turned to leave and walked to the door like a ghost of herself. Before Thranduil could let out the breath he was holding she turned back towards him again.

 

“Do _you_ know her?” she asked with a croaked voice.

 

“Pardon?” the King did not understand what she meant.

 

“You said I would not know her…” the Queen explained. “Do _you_ know her?”

 

“I will let you know everything in time.” Was all Thranduil could provide. “For now go back to your chambers.”

 

Leuthil gazed at him and Thranduil thought he was being pierced by that look. Without another word she opened the door and left leaving the door open for the breeze to dance inside.

 

***

 

Leuthil was going mad. She had lived with Thranduil enough to know there was something up with him; something that he preferred not to share. Whether it was because of protecting her from something or it was a horrible doing from his side she could not tell. The Queen was used to this attitude. She knew Thranduil tried to solve the matters himself, too proud to share them with her. She had come to terms with this. But this time was different. This was about Negaar. This was about the person who had caused them such a pain, who had deprived their daughter from experiencing a good life. This matter concerned both of them and Thranduil had no right to keep secrets about it.

 

Before she knew, the Queen had reached a door she had never entered in all the years they had lived in the Stronghold. She took a deep breath. What she was going to do was not easy for her. She knew Thranduil would be enraged if he heard of this but the King had left her no choice. So with another deep breath she raised her fist and knocked on the door.

 

A few moments passed. The sound of fumbling with the lock came from the other side of the door and a moment later it opened revealing Miklovand. His eyes widened when he saw her and he opened the door wider. They needed no words to exchange. The Captain stepped aside to let her in and she walked inside his room. Miklovand peered out in the corridor to make sure no one had seen the Queen sneaking inside his chamber and then he closed the door turning towards the elleth who was now standing in the middle of his room.

 

Leuthil looked around the chamber. She had expected the Captain to be untidy like any bachelor was. But he was not. His books were all arranged on the shelves and his bed was made. His desk was organized. This indeed was the room of a boy raised under the supervision of a great king.

Miklovand circled her and walked to the other side of the chamber. He stood in front of her, his back to the window. Miklovand was a bit shorter than Thranduil but he was tall none the less and he was wider than the King with more muscle mass. So he obscured Leuthil completely if anyone looked from the window. He locked his curious eyes on her, silently asking her to explain why she was there.

 

“I need your help…” the Queen said with no introduction.

 

Miklovand raised one eyebrow. “I’m listening…” he said.

 

“I must see this prisoner…” she said.

 

Miklovand smirked. “I should’ve known you wanted something Thranduil would not give you…” he shook his head.

 

“Will you help me?” the Queen interrupted impatiently.

 

“I’m sorry my lady but can’t risk my life for you to break a rule…” he said. “You know how the king hates me. He would not lose this opportunity to banish me. And I have nowhere else to go.”

 

“I will not tell him that you’ve helped me…” Leuthil said desperately. “Please Miklovand…”

 

Miklovand merely shook his head. “It’s too dangerous…”

 

The Queen pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. She turned on her heel and walked to the door.

 

“Why do you want to see her?” Miklovand said before she could go out.

 

Leuthil looked at him over her shoulder, but then she turned. “I want to look her in the eye and ask why she did it…”

 

Miklovand gazed at her for a long while; contemplating, his head tilted in calculation. She wanted to turn and leave but something told her to stay where she was. Something told her that Miklovand was considering to help her.

 

“The guards change at midnight…” he said at last, Leuthil’s heart sank in her chest. “There is only a few minutes before the next guards replace them. They hang the keys on a needle on the wall, near the door.”

 

Leuthil nodded, breathless. She could not believe that she had found a way at last.

 

“Do not enter her cell and do not go unarmed.” Miklovand warned. “You heard nothing from me…”

 

The Queen nodded. “Thank you…” she whispered and was out of the room immediately. She could not believe her luck.

 

***

 

Midnight came early. Thranduil was still not back to their chamber and Leuthil was glad for once from his load of work. He could have easily guessed something was up with her since she could not hide her anxiety. For hours she had paced the chamber back and forth, biting her nails. She had ordered Liadan to take Legolas away for the night; her anxiety was transferred to her child and he cried almost continuously.

 

In her hand the Queen had a dagger. It had sharp blade and the handle was adorned with precious gems; mostly emeralds and rubies. This dagger was Thranduil’s. It was a gift from his father when he assigned Thranduil as crown prince. Leuthil had not been present in the ceremony as she had been in Lorien finishing her studies. She had heard the tale from Thranduil. Leuthil always thought it was a fine gift but Thranduil firmly believed that his father did not give him this precious weapon out of love but because he wanted to show off to the court. The King never carried it on his person. The weapon always lied in a drawer; neglected.

 

A few minutes before midnight Leuthil walked out of the chamber, having placed the dagger inside her robes. The corridors were empty and by some kind of a miracle she did not encounter anyone. She knew the staircase that went down to the dungeons but had never actually been there. When first she had heard that Thranduil had made some kind of a prison in his stronghold, the notion had disgusted her since she knew that neither Lorien nor Imladris had any prisons. Thranduil however had insisted that their form of living were different from those of their kin and that in their society these dungeons were needed. He had apparently been right. The hardship the Woodelves endured tended them towards crime. They were not the ethereal fairies the tales told.

 

Leuthil reached the end of the staircase. She saw the sentries guarding the corridor but before they saw her, she hid behind a thick pillar. The guards chatted between themselves but Leuthil was too scared and paranoid to listen to what they were saying. A few breathless moments passed before the Queen heard them leave since their armor made sounds as they walked up the stairs and left without seeing her.

 

Her heart pounded hard and she knew she only had a few minutes. She walked out of her hiding place and almost immediately saw the metal loop hanging from a needle on the wall. On this loop hung several keys; certainly one for the door of the corridor and a few more for the cells that lay there.

Leuthil launched forward and grabbed the keys. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with them. After three frustrating tries the door to the corridor opened. She entered. The corridor was lit with a few torches and lanterns; their light trembling on the walls. There were seven cells located there; however only one door was closed and the other six were open revealing their unoccupied state. Leuthil approached the closed door the keys clinging. She tried not to think about what she was doing because if she lingered on it for one second she would definitely head back and retreat to the safety of her chamber. Making sure she left out the key that had opened the door of the corridor, the Queen started testing the others on the closed door.

 

Her hands trembled madly and sweat ran down her brow. After three attempts she was beginning to lose hope but her heart twisted when on the fourth the lock made a click and the door opened. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She half expected the prisoner to jump out of the cell like a wild beast but that did not happen. She picked one of the lanterns and walked inside the cell.

 

It took her eyes a few moments to get used to the darkness inside the cell. She looked around carefully noticing the pitcher of water and the empty plate of food before spotting the figure sitting on a stone bench on the edge of the wall. Leuthil took a step closer. Sensing the light the other elleth raised her head to see who had come to visit her on the dead of night; and Leuthil managed to see the face she had last saw many years ago.

 

She knew her. _Morey_ ; the name echoed in her head. She had been Thranduil’s mistress when he confessed his love for Leuthil. Morey was one of the main reasons Leuthil resisted Thranduil’s courtship for a long while. She used to think his taste very low for choosing such a companion. Morey was perhaps the only elleth Leuthil used to see as her rival; thinking that the black haired elleth was much more experienced in the art of seduction than her. And truly she was but it seemed that Thranduil did not want to be seduced. Queen Harma had bid Morey leave sometime in the war probably because she knew Thranduil and Leuthil loved each other and she did not want Morey to come between them.

 

But these did not explain why the elleth was in the dungeon. Was it not an elleth called Malin that they were after? Thranduil had told her that they had caught Malin; the elleth who had destroyed their lives. Unless…Morey was indeed Malin.

 

Leuthil’s breath hitched as Morey’s green eyes found hers. The elleth’s eyes widened at first, seemingly surprised to see the Queen but she recovered soon. She gave a smirk and sat back on her bench.

 

“You…” the word found its way out of Leuthil’s throat.

 

“Yes…” Morey smirked. “Me”

 

“ _You_ were behind all of it…” the Queen breathed, not really having control on her words.

 

Morey stood, allowing Leuthil to see the shackles around her ankles. Her eyes glistering in the dark. “Yes…” she replied.

 

Leuthil could not believe what she was seeing. She had once seen a drawing of this elleth, created by the hands of Thranduil. The image never left her mind even though she knew Thranduil never loved Morey. But the Sindar never drew a picture of Leuthil. It was a childish envy but it was there none the less. The Queen always thought that for Thranduil Morey embodied some form of sexual ideal that Leuthil never did. Now the Queen could see that not only the other elleth was a sexual idol but also she was a ruthless murderer; a deathly beauty.

 

Memories of the previous years flashed before her eyes. Galdor had been the first target, when he was shot in the woods. He was lucky to have survived. Aleth had been the next. Though her survival was a miracle the traces of her defilement still lived with her. Leuthil doubted if ever she would forget those memories. Then the assaults on her own life which were numerous in frequency and various in shapes; from the attack on her carriage to the stones that fell on her head in the Market. And then the attempt on Thranduil’s life. Elrond had literary pulled him back from the land of the dead. But in between they had lost their child. The wound of which was still agape and bleeding.

 

“Why?” she asked Morey before she knew it. This was after all the reason she had come down here; to know for what reason she had been bereaved with the worst pain of all.

 

“The story is long darling!” Morey said casually. “You must ask your husband to explain it. However I see that you were even uninformed about me being here. He must have little interest in sharing these things with you.” Her eyes roamed up and down Leuthil’s body. “You are after all a simple wench who knows nothing of the bigger world.”

 

Leuthil knew her words were meant to hurt her and that she must not listen to what she was saying but she found herself pondering. Perhaps Morey was right. Thranduil had hidden such an important thing from her. He had even lied telling Leuthil that she did not know the prisoner. She could understand that perhaps he did not want her to suffer. But why had he not done something already? Why was this murderer still alive? All she could do in return was to throw a nasty look at Morey.

 

“Thranduil will kill you for everything you’ve done…” she hissed. “Soon…”

 

“I think not…” Morey laughed. The sound of it was disgusting. “He would have killed me right away if he wanted to.” She took a step closer. “He has other plans for me…” she whispered as she ran her hand across her exposed collar bone and down her breast. “He knows that I can recompense the death of your stupid daughter in many other ways…”

 

Leuthil did not know what overcame her. She had never truly came to terms with Negaar’s death. For her it was an unsolved issue and would remain so as long as her daughter was unrevenged. The pain was still there with all its virulence. Leuthil wanted Morey dead and that was the only thing she thought about as her hand went to the dagger in her robes.

 

The shameless look on Morey’s eyes was replaced by shock and experienced as she was she reacted too late. In the darkness of the cell the dagger glimmered for a second before Leuthil planted it deep in Morey’s gut.

A choked breath left Morey’s throat as she grabbed the air for some kind of a handle. Her hand found the Queen’s garment but Leuthil took a step back and the fabric was torn easily out of Morey’s grasp. The Queen’s fingers released the weapon. Morey stumbled back with the dagger still in her body; the handle showing off its adornments. Her wide green eyes looked down to her stomach where she was impaled brutally by a decorative knife of which she could only see the handle and could feel rather than see the blade. At last Morey collapsed on the floor; blood started pooling under her body.

 

From outside the cell the sentries of the next shift could be heard chatting among themselves as they approached the dungeons.

 

 

 

 


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say how sorry I am to delay every chapter for so long. I'm sorry for promising to be more efficient next time and always breaking that promise. I just want to thank all of you who are still reading, you are the reason I'm still continuing this mess of a story.

Galdor waved a piece of parchment in front of the King, snapping him out of his momentary daydream.

 

“This is the list of the supplies we need to provide for the orphanages for winter…” the Steward explained.

 

Thranduil blinked a few times, killing time to allow himself to remember what they had been talking about. He took the list and skimmed through it but was unable to concentrate on the words and numbers or the meaning they indicated. He just signed the bottom of the document and marked it with his seal.

“Send them whatever they need.” He said as he tossed the paper to Galdor.

 

Galdor sighed at the King’s lack of concentration which had started with the news of him having a daughter from Morey and was growing ever since. It was as if Thranduil could think of nothing else. But the Steward tried to understand his feelings and carried the burdens for now. He could not blame Thranduil for being a mess.

 

Something stirred in Thranduil’s mind and before Galdor could take the parchment off the table the King placed his hand on it. He looked up at the Steward with a flicker of hope in his eyes.

 

“What if we gather the documents of the year Morey had been pregnant?” Thranduil said. “We can go through the names of the orphan babies who were taken into custody by families then. Perhaps she was registered somewhere.”

 

“I doubt she was…” Galdor said feeling horrible for killing the hope in Thranduil’s heart. “Morey said she gave birth in the family’s home, not an orphanage. Besides King Oropher did not register everything like you do and even if he did; thousands of years has passed…no document remains that long.”

 

As he had predicted Thranduil’s excitement abruptly left him, leaving behind a defeated expression and slumped shoulders. If the situation had been less dire Galdor would have found it hilarious. But it seemed that they were stuck in a complex problem that couldn’t get worse, or so the Steward thought.

He slipped another documents on the desk in hopes of distracting the King. “These are the…” he started but Thranduil interrupted him.

 

“Galdor I think we should relocate Morey!” he suddenly said.

 

“What? Why?” the Steward asked, surprised by the sudden change of topic.

 

“I don’t think she’ll talk soon so this tale is going to be long and I need to hide her somewhere until I figure out how to make her talk!” Thranduil said, looking stressed. “Besides I have a bad feeling, like something horrible might happen.”

 

The King’s anxiety worried Galdor but he did not comment on it. He merely nodded. “I’ll see to it tonight that her place is changed.”

 

The Steward had barely finished his sentence when the door of the study was pushed open and an extremely horrified guard burst inside. Galdor turned to reproach the sentry for entering without knocking but he thought better of it when he saw how unsettled the guard was.

He was panting like he had ran miles to get there and his eyes were wide with fear as if he had seen a real dragon.

 

“My lord…the prisoner…” he managed to rasp out.

 

Galdor recognized the sentry as one of the guards on the night shift of the dungeons. His heart sank in. Thranduil who had lost his patience jumped from his seat. “Come on soldier…” he barked. “Speak…”

 

“My lord _please_ come!” the sentry begged almost bursting to tears, the urgency in his tone sending a shiver down Galdor’s spine.

 

***

 

 

Leuthil did not notice when the sentries entered the cell, saw what had transpired and ran off. Her eyes was only on the figure on the floor. The dagger was still planted deep within her gut and though blood found its way out and painted the tiles slowly, the blade did not allow the crimson liquid to splash out wildly as it should have. Morey had twisted in pain for a few seconds but had stopped then and remained unmoving on the floor. Her green eyes were wide like someone who had seen great horror. Blood and muffled sounds splashed out of her slack mouth.

 

Normally Leuthil would have found the scene extremely disturbing especially given the fact that she was the one who had shoved that dagger in her stomach. But she felt nothing of the sort. The Queen was still shocked that the target of her festering hatred had been Morey. She had always seen that elleth as her rival when it came to loving Thranduil. During the years of war when the Prince had been away, Morey had taunted her a lot saying that Thranduil would be hers at last. But Leuthil had never thought of her capable of extreme violence or murder. She would have never imagined it then.

 

But the hatred and rage against the one who had had her daughter killed was too much to abide. The shock of knowing that Malin was in fact Morey had only faltered her a few seconds and then she had not known what overcame her.

But the Queen did not feel remorse as she watched the elleth die on the dirty tiles of the cell. Morey deserved to die. And if Thranduil did not have the heart to do it, then Leuthil was not sorry for having taking Negaar’s revenge.

 

There were sounds of rushed footsteps down the corridor and moments later the door of cell was pushed open and Thranduil rushed inside, Galdor on his heel. She heard Thranduil suck in a gasp. It took him a second to dash forward, not to his wife but to the dying elleth on the floor. He fell to the floor beside her, panic pooling in his eyes as he pulled Morey on her back and took her face in his cupped hands. His fingers trembled and it stabbed Leuthil’s heart that he looked so much like someone losing a loved one.

 

“Morey…Morey…look at me…” the King exclaimed in panic. “Morey please tell me where she is?”

 

In fact Morey’s eyes did found Thranduil’s for a brief second but then her eyes closed. “No, no, no…” Thranduil slapped her face and shook her as if it would bring her back from the dead. “Morey don’t die…please!”

 

Before Leuthil could think of the absurdity of what Thranduil was saying, the King had picked Morey up with hands under her knees and shoulders and dashed out of the cell, calling out for healers.

The Queen turned towards the door were moments before Thranduil had gone out of it. Galdor was still standing there, his eyes wide and his breath heavy. He threw Leuthil a look from which she could not read anything. Then he turned and ran after his king.

 

***

 

Leuthil did not know how long she sat on the stone bench in the cell. It could be minutes or hours; she could not tell. The door of the cell whined as it was pushed open again; this time gently. The Queen did not raise her head to see who had come.

 

She felt numb. She concluded after all that it was not such a bad feeling. It was at least much better than the burning anger she had felt before. That fire had died down significantly, leaving a mark on her heart that she knew it would remain there forever. But knowing the culprit of their pain was dead, she felt much better. Knowing that she could not hurt Thranduil or Legolas or anyone else, she felt relieved.

 

A hand was tenderly placed on her lap making her look up. Aleth was crouched on her heels in front of her, looking up at her with wide pitiful eyes. Her gaze then lingered down making Leuthil realize for the first time that her garment was tainted with blood. Aleth’s gaze was knowing. Galdor must have told her everything and asked her to come and get the Queen.

 

“Come…” She whispered as she took Leuthil’s hand and encouraged her to rise.

 

The Queen stood on shaking knees. Yet they had not taken one step when the door was kicked open again and Thranduil stormed inside. It was as if a tornado had entered the small cell. His hair was in complete disarray and his eyes burned with desperation and rage. The King’s clothes were crimson on the front. His fiery gaze found Leuthil immediately and the Queen realized then that never before had she been the subject of that look. But it did not make her weaver.

 

“What have you done?” the King hissed.

 

His words angered Leuthil for it was quite clear what she had done.

“I did what you dared not!” she exclaimed. “I avenged my daughter…”

 

“OUR daughter Leuthil!” Thranduil yelled and his voice echoed in the cell. “She was mine too…Do you really believe I would have left her unrevenged?”

 

“You had many chances to do so…!” the Queen shot back and she was surprised to see tears of desperation gather in Thranduil’s eyes.

 

“I just asked you for time…” he said in a much lower tone.

 

“I spared as much as I could…” Leuthil said coldly. “You had promised to let the laws decide her fate but you even hid her from the rules that would have definitely sentence her to death…WHY?”

 

“I have a child from her!!!” Thranduil cried. “She had hidden her from me…”

 

It took Leuthil a few moments to digest the meaning of Thranduil’s words. The whirling unrelated pieces in her mind suddenly fell into place. The disappearance of Morey amid the war. Her conspiracies. The fact that Thranduil avoided her execution.

 

“I have a daughter, somewhere in this land and only Morey knows where she is!” Thranduil explained with a shaky voice. “And you could not spare me a few more days to find out.”

 

Leuthil was speechless. What was there to say anyway? Aleth too had been silent for the whole ordeal. The Queen guessed she too was too shocked to say anything.

At last Thranduil wiped the wayward tears from his face. He walked to the door but turned before leaving. His eyes pierced his wife.

 

“Just pray that Morey survives…” he said. “For if she dies without spilling her secrets, I will never forgive you.”

 

***

 

Dawn came late for the Elvenking that night. The early morning mist faded slowly outside and the first rays of the sun found their way into the healing ward of the Stronghold. Thranduil had put much effort to establish this ward. He had brought expert healers from around the land and gathered their knowledge together. Many letters had been exchanged with Elrond to gain his wisdom on the matter and in order to transport these messages life of many messengers had been endangered on the roads. Yet the King had done it all and had spent so much from the public tax and from his own wealth only to build the best healing ward on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains. As the light of early morning entered one of the many chambers of this ward the Elvenking could see that they had not missed any detail to make this place right. Every equipment, every healing herb and medicine in Middle-Earth could be found here and he had made sure that the ones his forest could not provide would be imported from other lands, even the most expensive and exotic ones. And yet as the healers looked at him apologetically; as if begging him to understand, Thranduil could not help but think that his perfect healing ward was perhaps not perfect enough.

 

 One of the healers wiped her bloodied hands on a cloth and slowly pulled the white sheet on the lifeless face of Morey and with that she showed Thranduil that all his hopes for finding his lost daughter were lost. Thranduil felt cold. The white sheet on the corpse reminded him of his father. They had covered him with a white sheet as well when he fell in battle. Yet Oropher had been much different from Morey and Thranduil could not know why his long dead parent had come to his mind at that moment. Perhaps because he was so much in need of someone; someone who always knew what to do.

 

He felt Galdor’s hand on his back, trying to console him to no avail. How could he be consoled now that all was lost to him? His endless problems had become a knotted string. His own wife had killed the prisoner under his protection. This in itself was considered kinslaying as the new laws he had stablished himself told that any murder done by any hand except justice was considered so and again the sentence of kinslaying was execution. A shiver ran down his spine by the thought. But at that moment his heart was filled with so much anger from Leuthil that her situation had become secondary to his other matters. Then King felt as if he had lost another child yet again.

 

Somewhere in that vast land he had a daughter. That was all he knew. He could guess her age and that she was an adult and maybe even married. But he knew nothing else. He could not know how she looked like or if she was happy with her life. He could not know what she liked and dislike and he would never know the sound of her laughter. Just like he never got to know Negaar. He lost her before he could learn her beauties. In fact Thranduil had had two daughters both of which were lost to him.

 

Once of the healers approached him. He had a paper bag in his hand. Thranduil remembered the healers handing him a similar bag when Galdor had been shot by an arrow. They placed the belongings of their patients in those bag. The fabric was bloodied. Thranduil reluctantly took it from the healer and opened it. He took out the only object inside. It was a bloodied weapon, a dagger he recognized. His father had given it to Thranduil and he had never used it, thinking that the fancy stones on the handle made the tool very decorative. He never thought of the dagger able of scratching anything; so fancy it looked. But the small weapon had mocked him by doing the contrary. The King placed it back in the bag silently.

 

“My lord we should we prepare a burial…?” one of the healers asked.

 

Thranduil looked down at the corpse. It was hard to believe that the lifeless form under the sheet had once been a living, breathing elleth that had slept with him many times and had given birth to a child of his. The King knew he had wronged her, but the pain she had caused him in return was too much for him to feel remorse or pity for her death.

“No need…” he whispered. “Have her burned…”

 

He then turned and walked out of the healing chamber and then out of the ward. Galdor followed him in complete silence. It was a short walk to the corridor that housed the royal chambers. He turned toward the Steward before entering.

 

“Take the Queen to the one of the towers…” he ordered. “She’s not allowed any visitors until I say so.”

 

“The towers?” Galdor asked perplexed.

 

“She’s murdered her kin Galdor!” Thranduil reminded harshly.

 

“You are not going to…” the Steward started to ask disbelievingly but was interrupted.

 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do!” Thranduil cut in. “Just do it.”

 

He did not see the nod Galdor gave him as he walked inside the chamber and shut the door behind him. The room was semi-dark as the heavy curtains were closed. Thranduil jumped when he saw movement in the chamber as he had thought himself to be alone. It was Liadan, Leuthil’s handmaid. She had Kyan on her hip and was rocking Legolas’ cradle gently. When she saw him she stood and curtsied. Her eyes then darted to his clothes that were bloodied yet she did not comment on it.

 

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil asked her.

 

“Lady Aleth told me to take care of the children for a while…” the maid explained. “She said that she would be back with the Queen but it has been hours and the little one wants his mother.”

As if agreeing with his nanny Legolas cooed from the cradle. Thranduil’s heart twisted in his chest.

 

“Leave and take Kyan with you…” he ordered.

 

“But my lord what about the prince?” Liadan asked. “Should I not wait for his mother?”

 

“I’m his father am I not?” he snapped.

 

The maid dropped her head and murmured an apology. She then curtsied and left. After her departure the only sound in the room was Legolas’ nagging. Thranduil sighed and walked to the cradle. The baby was well awake and looked up at him with curious eyes as he brought his foot to his mouth and chewed on his tiny toes. Thranduil wanted to weep from how innocent and vulnerable he was. The father desperately needed to hold him close.  

 

He picked Legolas up carefully as the baby kicked a few times, happy from the attention. Thranduil wrapped his son on his little white blanket and held him against his chest. Normally Legolas would immediately find his hair with his little fists but this time the baby only looked at his face with a scary intelligence. Then his tiny face twisted and he started crying. Thranduil tried to soothe him, rocking him slowly and murmuring but his crying only increased. The King placed Legolas back in the cradle to go fetch something to appease the child but then in horror he realized the blanket around Legolas was bloody. His heart started hammering and he unwrapped the baby with panic, expecting a grievous wound only to find nothing. Then he realized the blanket was probably tainted from Morey’s blood on his own robes. Relief washed over him with a wave of nausea and Legolas’ constant crying did not help either. His child wanted his mother not him. It was all too much and the King could no longer stand on his two feet. He sank beside the cradle and held his head in his hands, his broken sobs accompanied the baby’s.

 

***

 

Aleth had helped Leuthil change into fresh clothes. She had hidden the Queen’s bloodied outfit somewhere behind the cases. The Princess did not wish to give the ruined clothes to the servants to dispose. She knew it would start assumptions and that was not what they wanted. She would destroy them herself in a proper time.

 

Aleth was helpless. Leuthil was her closes friend since childhood and moreover she was her sister in law. Seeing her like this broke her heart. The Queen sat on the bed, her back bent under pressure and her face devoid of life. Leuthil had acted hastily but Aleth could not blame her full-heartedly. The Princess knew the pain of losing a child. She had felt a much lesser pain, since her son had died at birth and she was convinced that it had been a natural death however young the baby had been. The Princess could guess Leuthil felt a much deeper agony. Her daughter had been older and she had not died naturally but by poison; a poison that had almost taken her husband’s life as well. If Aleth wanted to be honest perhaps she would have done the same had she found the murderer of her child.

 

But the things the Princess had heard while witnessing the exchange between her brother and Leuthil were shocking. Aleth remembered well how Morey used to torment Leuthil back when Thranduil had been away in war. Morey had known that Leuthil was in love with the Prince and used every opportunity to show her erotic history with Thranduil to her. At last when their quarrel was getting out of hand Aleth had taken the matter to her mother. Queen Harma had had Morey’s behavior under observation and had decided that the court was not a place for her. Now that Aleth knew that Morey had been in fact pregnant with Thranduil’s child when sent away she could not help but feel a pang of guilt even though Morey was far from innocent.

 

The Princess knew how things would get extremely complicated if Morey was to die. New laws had been established by Thranduil. The Elvenking who was once the sole determiner of the fate of his subjects when they committed a crime had passed that responsibility to an independent court which was consist of judges elected by village leaders. In that court the King had only one vote just like the others and things were decided by wisdom of the crowd.

If Morey died, Queen or not, Leuthil’s fate would be in the court’s hands. In fact Thranduil had fallen victim to his own laws. Aleth did not wish to think about it.

 

A soft knock made them jump. The door slowly opened and revealed Galdor who stepped inside. He glanced at Aleth and the Princess did not like the look her husband wore. It was the look of someone who had to do something he did not wish.

 

“My Lady…” he addressed the Queen. “You should come with me.”

 

Leuthil’s eyes shoot up to look at Galdor disbelievingly. But then she knew. “She’s dead isn’t she…?” she asked.

 

The solemn look on Galdor’s face was enough answer. “Please my lady…” he whispered. “Come with me.”

 

Leuthil stood and walked the distance to the door like someone walking in a dream. But then at the last moment she stopped abruptly. “Where is Legolas…?” she asked Aleth.

 

“He’s with Liadan…” the Princess answered automatically.

 

Leuthil turned to Galdor and looked at the Steward firmly. “I want my son…” she said.

 

“But my lady…”

 

“I won’t go anywhere without my son!” the Queen said sharply.

 

“I must take you to one of the towers…” Galdor explained patiently. “I will bring Legolas to you if the King allows it.”

 

Leuthil searched his face skeptically. But then not believing that Thranduil would actually deprive her from her son she nodded. The Queen glanced back at her friend who despite herself gave her an encouraging smile. Then she followed the Steward out of the room to the chamber in the tower.     

 

***

 

 

Morey’s body was burnt somewhere in the woods and the remaining ashes were scattered in the forest. Among the Silvan it was custom to bury the dead, this was a tradition the immigrant Sindar had accepted gladly for it gave them a more earthly way to cherish the one they loved and hold on to their memories. Yet Thranduil had feared Southernwood. There was no way for him to know of Morey’s popularity among them but the King did not wish to risk another uproar. He did not want her grave to become a center for them to visit. So they had deemed it better to burn her corpse.

 

From that hateful day that he had taken the lifeless body of his daughter from the arms of his wife, in his heart Thranduil had felt a ceaseless pain. At first when the grief was fresh it was as if his heart had turned to a fiery ball in his chest and he had thought his thirst for revenge was unquenchable. But then more matters had come his way. Leuthil had left, war had come and he was half disfigured by a dragon that had almost killed him. The agony of losing his daughter had been pushed back as he was mercilessly dragged in the whirlwind of events but the pain never ceased. It was always there even though Leuthil had many times accused him of having forgotten about their child being snatched away from their arms.

 

Since the moment he finally knew that the elleth they were looking for called Malin was in fact Morey, Thranduil had thought with capturing her and taking his revenge that endless, festering pain will come to an end; that the heaviness on his chest would be lifted and he will be able to breathe once more. But as he had watched the flames consume the body of his enemy Thranduil felt nothing but more pain, and more heaviness and even more sorrow. Above it all he felt extremely lonely and helpless. And given the situation Leuthil had placed them in he had every right to feel that way, or so he thought.

 

The air was getting chilly as the days became shorter and summer slowly gave way to autumn. They walked back to the Stronghold in complete silence and descended the stairs to the King’s study. Though the inhabitants of the Stronghold were living their normal life Thranduil thought that he had never felt the palace so lifeless.

Once in the study the king dropped into his chair unceremoniously. Galdor found himself a stool after closing the door and Miklovand leaned on the wall with his arms crossed across his chest. The Captain had been very efficient in controlling the news of the murder committed by the Queen. Since the only witnesses except Thranduil and Galdor were the sentries guarding the cell and thus Miklovand’s inferiors. He had talked to them to keep them silent for a while though they all knew this would not last long. Yet still Thranduil was grateful. He appreciated the little time he had been given to think and decide what he was supposed to do.

 

“So now what?” Miklovand asked, voicing the King’s thoughts.

 

Galdor glared at the Captain from his short stool and Miklovand responded with a shrug.

“He needs to think of something!” he defended. “I can’t ensure their silence long. Soon everyone will know and then making a decision would be much harder.”

 

“Though your Captain is very unthoughtful in choosing his words yet he is right about the last part…” Galdor said exchanging another glare with Miklovand who rolled his eyes. Then he looked at Thranduil who held his head in his hands with his elbows on the desk. “You need to decide…” he said.

 

“When the news spreads, the court would want you to surrender her…” Miklovand said. “The question is: Can you do it?”

 

“Do I have a choice?” Thranduil said with crooked voice as he looked up.

 

Miklovand did not answer that. The three were silent for a while. Until as last Thranduil sighed.

“Leave me…” he demanded.

 

Galdor looked as if he would protest but in the end he said nothing. The Steward joined Miklovand as they marched out of the room.

 

“Galdor…” Thranduil called before they could leave. The Steward turned towards him. “Provide any comfort the Queen needs. Yet she is not allowed to see Legolas under any circumstances.”

 

Galdor’s eyes widened. “Thranduil, you can’t do that…”

 

“That was an order not a suggestion!” the Sindar said in his coldest tone.

 

Galdor wanted to protest. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but Miklovand nudged him on his side reminding him not to mess with the King in his foul mood. The two left the chamber at last.

 

Thranduil was angry with Leuthil. In fact he was more than angry. He was furious and deeply heartbroken. The shocking news Morey had delivered to him had at first left him in a daze. Knowing he had a lost daughter somewhere in his forest was absurd and the notion that he knew nothing about her seemed like a tragedy. But along with the agony Morey had caused, Thranduil had developed some sort of hope in his heart that now he reproached himself for it. He had hoped that eventually Morey would talk and spill out where his daughter was. He had planned to go and find her; perhaps know her. Thranduil had even imagined his first encounter with her. Now the thoughts and the hopes seemed like a cheerless joke. Yet it did not stop the bitterness in his heart that somehow Leuthil had deprived him from knowing his child. They had lost one daughter together but he had found a chance to find another and Leuthil had snatched the chance away from him. The truth that she had not known what she had done to him at that moment did not help the least for it showed that she never trusted him to allow him some time to do what he had to do. She had deprived him from seeing his daughter and he would deprive her from seeing his son.

 

But his anger did not stop the cold shiver that ran down his spine from the thought of handing his own wife to the court. Her crime was clear as was the punishment for kinslaying. What was not clear was his own power to pull some strings to get a deduction from the sentence that the court was likely to give. The bitter irony of the situation was the most tragic part. A few hours earlier Leuthil had been the Queen; and now she was considered a murderer.

 

Thranduil stood and started pacing the chamber, fisting his fingers in his hair in pure desperation. At last he took refuge to the small table that housed his fancy bottles of wine. With trembling fingers he poured glass after glass and downed the liquid that did nothing to soothe him.

 

***

 

Leuthil had smiled weakly when she saw that Aleth had brought Kyan to her. The Princess knew that after two days of not having seen Legolas, the Queen preferred to see her own son instead. But there was nothing she or anyone else could do about that. The King’s orders were clear and unchangeable since he controlled it strictly that no one sneaked the baby to his mother under any circumstances.

 

The Queen was a wreck. Though she received everything she desired and her chamber was comfortable in the tower, she had dark circles around her eyes. Her voice was raspy from crying and she jumped from every little sound looking hopefully to the door. Aleth knew she hoped that somehow the King would change his mind and allow her to see his son.

 

The separation was so unsettling for Leuthil that she no longer thought of what was going to happen to her. Aleth knew that beside Thranduil, Galdor, Miklovand and her only the sentries present at the scene knew of what had transpired. But only those two guards were enough to let the entire realm aware. Soon it would be talk of kinslaying and the fact that the victim was a monstrous creature would be forgotten. All would want the king to show equity and hand his Queen to the court, the result of which was clear.

 

Yet despite everything Leuthil did not give it a thought. She was only restless to see her son and nothing else. Aleth had to say that if Thranduil’s intention was to cause pain he had succeeded. However Leuthil was not sorry for killing the conspirator behind the death of her daughter but she was deeply sorry that unknowingly she had taken Thranduil’s daughter away from him or in his case, further away.

 

The Queen sang a sad lullaby to Kyan who had fallen sleep on her lap. During those two days Aleth had continually visited her friend to keep her spirit up. Yet every time she had to finally leave at some point, specially now that Leuthil’s duties were added to her own. She also had to take care of Legolas.

 

“I have to go…” the Princess announced as she stood from where she was sitting.

 

Leuthil sighed and ran a hand in Kyan’s chestnut hair. With a low groan Aleth picked the child up. The boy was getting heavy and he started drooling on her shoulder. Leuthil watched them with pure envy in her eyes.

 

“You take care of Legolas don’t you…” she asked for the hundredth time.

 

“Yes, do not worry…” Aleth answered patiently, leaving out the fact that the baby had been equally restless while away from his mother.

The Princess gave Leuthil a smile. “I’ll be back soon…” she promised as she headed for the door.

 

“Aleth…” the Queen called and made her turn. “Did you tell Thranduil I want to see him…?”

 

“I did.” Aleth sighed. “He’s been busy I believe.”

 

They both knew it was a lie. Yet Leuthil nodded, understanding and hopelessness pooling in her eyes. Aleth could no longer tolerate so she just knocked on the door from the inside. The sentry on the other side opened the door and the Princess walked out.

 

She handed Kyan to one of the maids on her way and did not know how she passed all the complex corridors but only knew that suddenly she was behind the door of Thranduil’s study and without warning she stormed inside. Thranduil was sitting behind his desk reading something. He looked up sharply but when he saw his raging sister the anger in his eyes turned to curiosity.

 

“What do think you’re doing?” the Princess asked with no introduction.

 

Thranduil’s eyebrows shoot up. He had that infuriating cold mask on again as he asked: “Pardon?

 

“Are you planning to kill your wife?” Aleth answered with a question, putting her hands on her waist. She reminded Thranduil very much of their mother when she got angry once in a while.

 

“Aleth…” he started but his sister interrupted him.

 

“Are you going to give her to the court?” she asked sharply. When no answer came from the King she became even angrier. “Answer me Thranduil.”

 

“I do not have to answer you…” the King lost his patience though Aleth ignored it.

 

“Well court or not you have sentenced her to her death by not allowing her to see her son.” She announced.

Something flickered in Thranduil’s eyes but he masked it so fast that the Princess thought to have imagined it.

“She did the same to me.” He answered in low yet firm tone.

 

“She did not know anything, because you had kept her in the dark…” Aleth reasoned.

 

“The result is the same.” Thranduil replied bitterly. “The pain is the same…you do not understand.”

 

“Perhaps I don’t.” the Princess said as she approached her brother’s desk. “But I understand one thing: You have not yet tasted pain brother. You will know pain when you lose her.”

 

Thranduil looked away from her as if he could not hold her gaze or perhaps he could not abide the truth that he too knew well.

“She wishes to see you…” the Princess said. To that Thranduil made no reply and acted as if he had not heard it, just like the last time his sister had mentioned it. Aleth had no more to say. She gave her brother a mock curtsey, which he ignored as well. Then the Princess left the chamber feeling a bit lighter, though she knew her brother was feeling much heavier.

 

***

 

“Are you going to stay there forever?”

 

Galdor’s voice snapped Thranduil awake. It took him a few moments to realize where he was and he finally remembered he had allowed himself a bath that night, returning to their bed chamber after two days. He had sent away the maid who watched over Legolas claiming that he was well capable of doing so. However he had fallen asleep in the tub. “Is Legolas…” he asked.

 

“Yes Yes, your baby is dozing in his cradle…” Galdor said as he picked up a towel and approached the tub.

 

The water had turned freezing cold yet Thranduil had no strength to climb out of it. But Galdor’s gaze was expectant so he rose on his numb legs and allowed the Steward to wrap him in the towel. He walked out of the bathing chamber, water dripping from his hair. After checking on the baby he slumped on the bed unceremoniously. Galdor came to him with another towel and took his wet tresses into it.

 

“I’m not a child Galdor…” the King protested.

 

“Everyone has the right to be a child once in a while…” Galdor said and pulled on Thranduil’s hair to stop him from moving away. The King groaned but sat still and allowed the Steward to dry his hair. he enjoyed it more than he cared to admit. A few minutes passed in silence until Galdor managed to get his hair a bit drier. He brought him some light clothes for the night and helped him wear them. With childish gurgles Legolas let them know that he was awake.

 

Thranduil automatically went to him and picked his son up. The baby nagged a bit but as the King started singing a slow lullaby for him he was calmed. Legolas looked up at him curiously as if he wanted to hear every word. His eyes were so similar to his mother’s that it made Thranduil want to weep. He had fallen in love with those eyes when he had been young and had woken up every morning since with the hope of seeing them. He had gone to war and returned for her and had lived for her just as she had lived for him. He could not hand her to the court. If that meant that he was an unjust king, then so be it. Let them call him selfish and unfair, he did not care if it was for her.

 

“Galdor…” he swallowed the lump in his throat.

 

At once Galdor was beside him.

“Take a piece of parchment and write as I tell you…” Thranduil asked still swaying his son slowly.  

 

The Steward went to the small desk in the room and with a little searching found a decent parchment. He sat behind the desk and took the quill in his hand, ready to write.

 

Thranduil sighed and thought for a few moments before he started dictating “My dear Lord Elrond…” he started.

The sound of quill scratching the parchment filled the room.

 

“It is with a heavy heart that I write to you for you have done a lot for me and have asked nothing in return. Yet know that I had no choice but to turn to you for aid. There are matters that I cannot explain in this letter. But to make the long story short, I need to send my wife away from the realm for a considerable length of time, since there are some who might wish to hurt her.

I do not wish to ask Lorien of this favor for I need her to be as far away as possible from the Woodland. The further she is the safer she will be. So I am willing to risk the hard travel through the mountains for her to take residence in Imladris, since I know that with you she will be safe from any harm. I hereby ask if as my friend I can count on your hospitality to allow my wife to take residence in the last homely house. In case your answer is negative I still do understand.

Your friend

Thranduil”

 

 


	80. Chapter 80

Leuthil tensed from the knock on the door. She felt Aleth’s fingers tug on her dark hair since the sound had startled her as well. The Princess did a fast job on the braid she had in hand as Leuthil bid the knocker enter.

The door opened and revealed Galdor with a grim expression, accompanied by a guard. The sentry had a pair of metal shackles in hand. Leuthil’s stomach lurched from the sight of it. She stood from where she was sitting on the bed. Aleth straightened her simple garment for her. Galdor gazed at the Queen for a few moments as if pleading her forgiveness for what he was about to put her through. Leuthil thought there was nothing to forgive.

 

The time had come for her to stand before the judges and face the consequences of her deeds. In the weeks leading to this day, sitting alone in the chamber assigned to her, she had a lot of time to ponder through what she had done and what had come to pass. The Queen found that she was not sorry for killing Morey. But being deprived of her son had brought another feeling to her. She felt as if a part of her was missing. There was a void place in her chest and she wanted to scream but no sound came from a throat. She knew Thranduil was feeling almost the same now that he knew he had a daughter somewhere. Her husband had successfully shown her how he felt because of her. Leuthil felt sorry for being the reason that he could not find his daughter. And for that she thought she deserved a trial and conviction.

 

Galdor did not need to say anything. From his face Leuthil could read that it was time to go, that the judges were waiting to receive her. She had been informed that Thranduil had managed a trial behind closed doors to save her some dignity. Leuthil was grateful for it, even as her heart started hammering on her ribcage. She turned towards Aleth. Her aquamarine eyes were wide and full of tears.

 

“Aleth…” she said. “Promise me you’d take care of Legolas…”

 

“It’s only a trial…you’ll return to see him.” Aleth replied and they both knew she did not believe her own words.

 

“Promise me…” the Queen repeated firmly.

 

Aleth’s eyes found hers. Leuthil remembered running in the spring grass with her in the fields around the former capital. They were very young when they became friends and the contrast in the color of their hair made them look like day and night. The Queen found that she was glad to have Aleth beside her in such a day; that she did not regret befriending her even though it had led her here in the long run.

“I will…” the Princess whispered. She then placed her hands on Leuthil’s shoulders tenderly. “You think of defending yourself and nothing else…”

 

Leuthil nodded absentmindedly and then turned towards Galdor. The Stewards and the sentry had entered the chamber as she had been engaged with Aleth. The sentry approached the Queen and lifted the shackles, but before he could touch her Galdor slapped his hand away.

 

“There’s no need…” he told the sentry.

 

The young boy tried to protest. “But my lord…”

 

“I said there’s no need!!!” Galdor barked and made the sentry flinch away.

 

The Steward then turned towards Leuthil and smiled weakly. “Come my lady…” he urged.

Thankful for the respect Galdor had saved for her Leuthil threw a last glance at Aleth who was doing a vain job at suppressing her tears and then walked out of the chamber towards where the trial was going to take place.

 

 

They walked to another part of the stronghold where some chambers were assigned to courts. Her knees shook so much that she feared falling but she managed to walk through the long way. Galdor led her to one of the doors. He knocked on it before giving her an encouraging smile. The door opened. Leuthil’s heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. Yet she took a deep breath and stepped inside. To her relief Galdor followed her. he had a warm and comforting air around him.

 

The chamber was huge and round, illuminated by dim natural light coming from the holes on the high ceiling. As for furniture there was a long table placed on an end where the three judges were sitting; two ellons and an elleth. They were all the members of the court she had known for ages. On the left side of the chamber there was a few chairs, two of which were occupied by two sentries whom Leuthil recognized as the guards on the shift on the night Morey had been killed. On the right was another table. Behind this one Thranduil sat on an ornate chair. He had his head dipped down and did not spare a glance at Leuthil which broke her heart further if that was even possible.

 

In the middle of the chamber a lone chair was placed, towards which Galdor led her. As she sat the rest of the room sat as well and for the first time since entering she realized that except Thranduil the judges had been standing in respect for their queen. It was ironic that these judges who rose from their seats for her where about to sentence her.

 

But Leuthil’s attention was somewhere else. She had not seen Thranduil for weeks. Their last encounter had been full of bitter words. During her time alone, Leuthil had realized how much she missed him. She felt like half of her soul had been missing. Her eyes drank the sight of him even though he never looked up at her. Thranduil had grown thin, it seemed that the weigh he had gained with much effort after the battle with the dragon had been lost in only a few weeks. Leuthil found herself worrying over his health even though Thranduil had handed her to this court without a second thought and worst still had banned her from seeing her baby.

 

“Do you confirm that you are indeed Lady Leuthil Alheruiel, wife to King Thranduil Oropherion and Queen of Greenwood…” the judge sitting in the middle suddenly started aloud, making her jump in her place. She realized he had been saying things she had not heard and was now going through a protocol.  

 

“Y…yes…” she stammered.

 

“You have been accused of murdering a prisoner under protection of the King…” the elleth sitting on the right said. “You face accusations for disobeying the direct orders of the King and Kinslaying.”

 

“The jury asks the first witness to come forth…” the judge in the middle ordered.

 

Leuthil watched as one of the sentries walked forward on shaky legs. He was asked to tell his own tale of the story. The Queen no longer listened as her attention again drifted to her husband sitting in the corner. Galdor had joined the king behind the table and he was whispering something in his ear. Thranduil’s head was tilted in calculation. Leuthil had almost forgotten this habit of his. He always tilted his head to the side when he thought long and hard, like a curious bird observing the world. Leuthil remembered finding this habit beautiful when they were courting. She did not know when she had forgotten about it.

 

Her mind wandered to her son. She thought if he would look like Thranduil when he grew old or if he would inherit his traits. She doubted it since he already had her eyes. The Queen wondered if they were taking good care of her child, if Thranduil at all cared about his emotional needs.

 

“Lady Leuthil…”

 

The voice of the judge snapped her out of her musing and she looked at him. She realized that the two sentries had given their testimonies. The hawk nosed ellon gazed at her intently.

 

“Do you deny the tale that the witnesses have told…?” he asked.

 

“No…” Leuthil answered as if it was the simplest question. She had not even heard them.

 

“Then you do not deny killing the prisoner…” the Judge confirmed with raised eyebrows.

 

“No…” Leuthil repeated.

 

“Had you planed it from before…?” the judge asked.

 

“No…” the Queen said.

 

“Then why carry a dagger…?” he asked immediately.

 

“I had heard she was dangerous…” Leuthil said.

 

“Who told you that the guards changed shifts on that hour?” the judge asked skeptically.

 

From the corner of her eye Leuthil saw Thranduil shift and sat straighter. She knew he was curious to know who had led Leuthil there in the first place. Yet she was not going to reveal Miklovand’s name. She had promised him and she could not blame Miklovand for her own actions.

 

“I just happened to go down there on that hour…” she finally said. “It was mere chance…”

 

The judge seemed not satisfied with the answer but did not push. He gazed at her deeply.

“Why did you kill her?” he asked.

 

“She was behind conspiracies that ended up with my daughter’s death…” Leuthil provided. “I was angry and needed revenge.”

 

“You could have allowed the law to avenge your daughter my Lady…” the elleth at the back said as if scolding a child.

 

_“I suppose it is too late for this kind of talk…”_

The King’s sharp voice cut the conversation. The judge in the middle dipped his head in respect of the King. He then gazed up.

“Would you like to add anything before the announcement of the verdict my King?” he asked.

 

For the first time Thranduil’s eyes found Leuthil. He gazed at her for a few seconds before darting his eyes on the judge. Leuthil shivered from the coldness of his look and she knew then that she was not forgiven by her husband.

 

“I merely wish that the court considers the fact that the victim had not been a mere citizen of Greenwood but was a dangerous murderer herself who was behind the murder of the Princess of this land.” The Elvenking said in a firm tone. “I also ask that the court considers the fact that the accused is the respectful Queen of the Woodland and I will not have her humiliated and publicly demonstrated as a criminal.”

 

Leuthil had to confess she did not understand what Thranduil was saying. All the talk about humiliation seemed meaningless to her. But as she saw the judge bow his head to the king again she was smart enough to understand there had been some discussions between the King and the Judge about her sentence. It warmed her heart to know that Thranduil had at least tried to pull some strings for her.

 

The judge consulted his associates and they whispered amongst themselves for a few breathless moments. Then the judge sat straight on his seat. “The verdict..” he finally announced.

 

Everyone except the King rose to their feet. Though courts and independent judgment was something new in Greenwood, its ethics had been learned fast. The King had established it as a smart mimicry of the structure of judgment system in Doriath, long forgotten. It was ironic that he had been forced to hand in his own wife to a system he had built himself.

 

“Sentry Halusi Pardihion and Sentry Keyshah Brition are found guilty for neglecting duty and their ranks in the army would be taken from them as Captain Miklovand sees fit.” The Judge announced. He then cleared his throat and continued. “Despite the fact that the victim had been accused of treason and murder, the court finds her a citizen of Greenwood and thus entitled to defend herself before the court. This right has been denied from her because of this murder, therefore the jury finds Lady Leuthil Alheruiel guilty for Kingslaying…the sentence of which is _death_.” The judge then looked up at the King who was listening with a hard face. “In respect of the Lady’s position as the Queen and wife to our beloved King the court has decided that the verdict would not be executed publicly but in private, and the manner of the execution would be chosen as his Majesty sees fit.”

 

If the trial had been public Leuthil predicted that the verdict would have made a commotion among audience but since there were no spectators except those who already knew and predicted everything no sound came from anyone in the room. One of the guards at the door was immediately beside her gently grabbing her elbow to lead her out.

 

_“Don’t touch her…”_

 

From the Evenking’s sharp order the sentry immediately drew back his hand as if her skin had burned his fingers. A deadly glare from the King followed which made the sentry retreat a step.

 “Please come with me…” he murmured with downcast eyes as if he even feared looking at the King’s wife. Or perhaps he was ashamed that he had to take the Queen to her isolated chamber in the tower or maybe even the dungeons. But Leuthil was not listening to him, nor was it important for her to be touched by the guard. She was well past that point. With wild eyes she looked at the judge.

 

“I want to see my son…” she said firmly. Death was something, not seeing her son before she died was another matter. Her whole body trembled with the fear; that she would not have the chance to see and hold Legolas before her life was taken away from her.

 

“The Prince’s guardian is his majesty…” the judge said tenderly. “The King must decide if you are allowed to see his son.”

 

_His_ son. Not _theirs_. Not _hers_. She was no longer considered Legolas’ parent; the son she had brought to this world. Her gaze slid to Thranduil. She hope that her eyes would find his aquamarine orbs that had once held endless love and affection for her. Yet Thranduil had his gaze away, looking at a point in the air where nothing existed. Even his look towards nothing was icy and hard. He had changed she decided. Thranduil had managed to somehow deal with the death of Negaar and remain the same person, but losing the only chance to find his lost daughter had turned his heart into solid rock and for that, Leuthil had no one to blame but herself.

 

***

 

Not looking at her had proven to be much harder than he had expected. Through the whole ordeal Thranduil had felt his wife’s eyes on him and it had taken much will not to look back, not to get drawn to her beautiful blue eyes that he had missed so much. He knew that had he returned her gaze he would not have seen pleading eyes, begging him to do something and save her life. Leuthil never begged. That pride was something that had attracted him to the Silvan since the first days. Yet he knew that for seeing her son again, Leuthil would beg and Thranduil did not think that he could endure it.

 

He managed not to look back, not even when she screamed his name and pled to see Legolas. In the end when his will wavered and he gazed up at her she had already turned away and so it was the sway of her dark hair that he saw, walking out of the door with the guard that stood with a respectful distance from her after Thranduil had shown him his limits. She was and would remain the queen until the last moment and the Elvenking would ascertain that everybody remembered that.

 

The Judges bowed to him from across the room; a look of pity in their eyes. With their looks they tried to beg him to understand. He tried to do. But everything was so ridiculous in a horrible way. His life was falling apart with a supernatural speed that seemed absurd and no matter how much he tried he could not believe or understand. But Thranduil was a King and still he walked out the courtroom with a straight back and a head held high. A single sign of doubt or weakness would give his enemies and criticizers the perfect opportunity to rip him apart. At a normal circumstance he would not have cared. He would have allowed the whole world to become his enemy but he would have stood by Leuthil even if it meant he had to turn into a real tyrant and destroy Greenwood by his own hands. To save her and keep her by his side, He would have silenced every tree, every creature in the forest and every single elf even if it ended up in his own demise. But this was not like any situation in the past. Right now he had a son to think of. He needed to see and ascertain his future. Thranduil had not forgotten the death of his daughter. The King would not hand Legolas to death as well. With what his mother had done, Thranduil was the only protection Legolas had against the world.

 

He was thankful that Galdor walked on his left, filling the space he could not see. The Steward knew he became wearier of his blindness when the mental pressure escalated. So Galdor remained on his left side since he knew the King trusted him more than anyone. They walked towards the royal chambers in silence. The elves they encountered in the corridors merely bowed and passed them and for that Thranduil was thankful. Before reaching their intended destination Thranduil changed his path.

 

“I’m going in the forest…” he explained to the Steward. “Don’t follow me.”

 

Galdor knew better than to disobey and so he remained behind. Thranduil hoped the Steward would take advantage of his absence and find some time to rest. He knew he was draining Galdor with his endless troubles and although the Steward bore his burden in silence, Thranduil feared that someday the Silvan would tire of him. Yet at that moment he felt so sorry for himself that his fear for Galdor leaving him went to the back of his mind. With long strides he reached the gates. The guards at the doors exchanged meaningful glances but they did not try to stop him and allowed him to pass with a silent bow of the head.

 

Thranduil was glad that the trees of the forest started very near to the gates, so he could hide himself from view pretty fast and get swallowed by the woods. He wandered away from the main road on purpose. Although it was almost noon the cluster of the trees did not allow the rays of the sun to reach him and the woods were almost dark as if it were night. As he walked, the King shed his restrictive clothes. His heavy robe was first to go. He dropped it carelessly somewhere on the forest floor. Galion would find it later or perhaps he would not; Thranduil did not care. His circlet was next. He ripped it of his brow and threw it away as if it had insulted him. He heard the valuable thing hit a tree and then fall somewhere among the bushes for a lucky wanderer to find later.

 

The King walked a long time. He could hear the chatter of the trees. As he passed their communication lowered to mere whispers as if they too were alarmed by his presence and the rage he projected. The creatures of the forest that normally approached him fearlessly hid themselves in their shelters.

 

He walked further away from the main road, where he knew border patrols were less and the elves did not reside there. The nature around him became wilder just like his soul. The woods got darker and more twisted as he placed distance between himself and the Stronghold. He wanted to be away from that place that functioned with stupid rules. He wanted to be in the wild when the only rule was to be strong. He walked hours and hours until he reached what he needed.

 

The stench of them filled the air. The nest of spiders was close, perhaps a few feet away. This was what he needed so badly. The nest meant numerous to kill, to slay, and to watch hot fountains of blood shoot from torn skins and screams of pain as the creatures writhed in agony. Or perhaps to be killed and be ridden from the bitterness of this eternal life. A fast bite of a sting, a sharp pain, the surging of poison in his veins, a blurring vision, a quick fall…and then silence.

 

Thranduil pushed away the high bushes and stepped into the clearing that housed the nest. He could not count the spiders hidden inside. When the nest came into full view he unsheathed his two swords. Normally he would have been upset to find a nest so close to the Stronghold but now he found a mad happiness in his heart. A poke to the webs was all he needed to start the fight. One would call it madness. He could have circled the nest in silence and slayed them from the back while they rested. But Thranduil no longer thought. Bloodshed was all he wanted. A few moments was all it took for the spiders to flood out of their nest. The bigger ones made a circle around the smaller ones; their disgusting children. His daughters had to be dead and lost but these hellish creatures had their beloved offspring beside them. It was all it took for him to attack.

 

His swords cut the air before landing on his targets. For him it was a well learned dance to swing swords as the extensions of his arms and perform the steps he had learned long ago. Thranduil heard only the splitting of skin, saw only blood and smelled only death. The more they poured out of the nest the merrier he got. His drunken dance of death was tireless as the spiders slayed themselves on his blades one after the other.

 

At last Thranduil ended up with an empty nest and endless bodies of massive spiders all dead; or on the verge of submitting to death from grievous wounds; their hairy disgusting legs wriggling in the air. The King panted hard, sweat ran down his body. He had taken minor scratches but nothing serious. The sting of it felt good as it distracted him from the real pain in his heart. Normally he would have sent a patrol of ten elves to deal with such a nest that he had ended single handedly. And yet he felt no pride. To Thranduil it only proved one thing; that for him death was an uncatchable dream.

 

He fell to his knees. The exhaustion finally hit him. Something told him that it was not the fatigue of body but of mind that had made him collapse at last. Regardless of the forest floor tainted with spider blood he stretched on the soil. Shielding his face with his arms the King wept.

 

***

 

 

Leuthil did not know when the execution was about to take place. The trial had not given a date. From previous experience with Erhan, she knew that a man would be hired to do the job and so the few days that had passed uneventful was not a surprise for her. She thought of Erhan and how Thranduil had shown him mercy in the last seconds even though the Silvan had tried to kill the King. She doubted Thranduil would show her such a mercy. While Erhan had hurt him physically, she had hurt him emotionally and she knew the King could not forgive her. Leuthil did not expect the Sindar to spare her life. She was past that line now. What she prayed for was that Thranduil would allow her to see her son one last time; a wish that she doubted the King would grant.

 

The darkness outside the window of the tower showed that it was deep into the night; midnight has probably passed. The palace was in silence. There was no traces of the sounds from outside the locked tower door that had entertained Leuthil. After the trial even Aleth had been forbidden from visiting her. She had been left alone to sink deep in her thoughts. Sometimes waves of panic hit her. Yet with no one to calm her she had to deal with it herself and eventually she drained herself with banging on the walls or crying until she fell sleep. Even in the realm of dreams she had no solace for she had nightmares and dreams of Legolas. Every time she woke up alone.

 

She was singing to herself when the lock turned in the wooden door hours after midnight. She was singing an old lullaby her mother used to sing to her and she used to sing to Legolas in the few weeks she had had with her son. Tears were running down her cheeks. She expected a guard to bring her food or water even though it was very late in the night, but when she spotted Galdor in the threshold the lullaby hitched in her throat.

 

“My lady…” the Steward bowed his head slightly. The courtesy he showed was ridiculous due to the circumstances.

 

She rose from where she was sitting on the bed. Her heart banged on her chest. Galdor was there for a reason. The strange look he wore was a solid proof to that.

 

“It’s time…” he whispered.

 

Her eyes grew wide and she truly feared that her heart might burst out of her chest and kill her before any execution would take place. Her knees started to tremble as well as her hands. Breathing became harder as panic surged through her. Her ears buzzed and her vision was a bit blurry. It was soon. She was not ready.

Galdor stretched his hand, holding out what looked like some dark clothes. “You should wear these…it’s cold outside.”

 

Leuthil’s eyes darted from Galdor to the fabric and back. Cold sweat was running down her back. But even in that panicked state she still remembered. “I want to see Legolas…” she said with a shaky voice. It was the only matter her mind could function around.

 

“That had been arranged as well…” Galdor said averting his eyes.

 

The Queen had a hard time believing him. But she had never heard lies from the Steward before and in that moment she had no choice but to trust him. With trembling fingers she took the clothes from Galdor.

 

“I’ll wait outside…” he said and walked out of the room to give her some privacy to change.

 

It was as if all the blood had left her body. Her fingers were dead cold and she feared she might collapse. It took a lot of time for her trembling hands to unfold the clothes. Surprisingly it was a dark tunic, a pair of leggings and a robe with a hood. Leuthil had not worn leggings and tunic for years. Those clothes were set aside from the moment she became queen. It was strange that she was supposed to wear these but her mind was in such a frenzied state that she could not think much about it.

 

The Silvan removed her light garment. All the fine hair on her body were standing straight. She tried to do a quick job in wearing the outfit. If Thranduil had agreed for her to see Legolas she did not want to give him time to change his mind. Soon she was opening the door and walking out of the tower.

 

She realized the guards at her door were gone and the Steward was standing there alone. Galdor checked her head to toe though she could not fathom what he was thinking of. “Follow me…” he muttered and started striding away. She followed her close behind. The Queen could not belive this was going to be her last night. All she knew was that she was not ready.

 

The Stronghold was sleep. They passed through corridor after corridor. Leuthil knew they were getting away from the royal and diplomatic parts of the Stronghold where council members, soldiers and the royal family were housed. They were declining to the lower parts of the underground city and soon she no longer knew where they were. Yet she did not dare ask. The Silvan wondered where Thranduil had chosen to have her life taken away from her. From the way Galdor was going it was no normal place. Leuthil found that she knew where she wanted to die. There was a place near the former capital, where the river crossed the city. Wild roses grew there in spring. Thranduil had taken her to this place when they were courting. Leuthil would have liked to die there with the memory of their love when it was not yet tainted. Yet she could tell that the place was probably destroyed by now, living only in their memories.

 

They reached empty alleys that Leuthil had never known they existed and at some point Galdor took a sharp turn to right and entered underground tunnels. These tunnels were warm from the late summer heat. Leuthil was bursting with questions. She did not see so much concealing needed for her death. Everyone knew what she had done why her execution should become such a mystery. Or perhaps Thranduil wanted her to see her son in private. Suddenly they reached a door.

 

“Wait…” she blurted out finally losing her patience. Galdor turned towards her. “Where are we going?”

 

“Do you not wish to see your son?” the Steward asked. He then turned and opened the wooden door. Dust rose as it opened, revealing a secret tube for only one to walk inside. The other side was not clear. Galdor stepped inside the tunnel; and turned to her.

 

“This tunnel was built long ago…when we were first building the Stronghold.” he explained. “It is a secret passage no one knows about but me, Thranduil and the architects of the city. It’s meant as a route of escape in crisis or a siege. Or an emergency such as one we are facing now. It leads you out of the Stronghold to the middle of the forest beside the river.”

 

He then bid Leuthil to enter the tunnel and when she did he closed the door behind her. It was only thanks to their elven sight that they could find their way in that utter darkness. As she walked behind Galdor Leuthil could still not fathom why she was being taken away from the Stronghold. Was all these antics only for her to see her son?

 

The tube was slick and damp and she stumbled a few times, each time saved from falling face down by Galdor. They must have walked for an hour or so when at last she heard the sound of running water. There was a small door above their head. Galdor pushed it open and moon light shined upon them. He climbed out first and then pulled her out of the tube. Fresh forest air filled Leuthil’s lung and she realized that she had been deprived of it for a long time.

 

As Galdor had said they were indeed in the middle of the forest with a great distance from the main gates of the stronghold. The first thing Leuthil spotted was the cart that was standing beside the river with two horses strapped to it. There was fabric splayed on it so that the insides of the cart was hidden from view. Beside the horses three men were standing. Leuthil noticed they were commoner mortal men with shabby clothes. They gazed at her curiously but then averted their eyes.

 

“Leuthil…”

 

Thranduil’s familiar voice made her turn. He was standing a few feet away holding a bundle of blankets which Leuthil could guess was Legolas. Her heart skipped a few beats as she dashed towards her son. Thranduil did not resist as she took the baby from him. Legolas’ smell filled her nostrils, her tears ran down freely. She pressed her son to her chest and buried her face in the blanket kissing the baby. The sleeping infant woke up and started gurgling. It made her smile despite her tears. Legolas was not one to cry easily. He was a happy child and at that moment he was looking up at his mother curiously. She planted as many kisses as she could on his smooth cheeks.

 

Thranduil watched the interaction with a heavy heart and a hard face. Galdor stood a few feet away not wanting to intrude their privacy. At last Leuthil looked up, gazing warily at the men.

“Don’t worry…” Thranduil said softly. “They are only merchants I’ve known for many years. These men have agreed to help us. They will transport you out of the forest…”

 

Leuthil turned to him with widened eyes, surprise written all across her face. “You are not going to have me killed?” she asked breathlessly.

 

Thranduil gazed back at her for a few moments before answering. “I couldn’t…” he whispered almost inaudibly.

Another moment passed in silence. “Thank you…” Leuthil murmured at last.

 

To that Thranduil did not say anything. He merely looked away. Leuthil could tell he was still upset with her, that he had not forgiven her.

“You will be taken to Imladris where Elrond will receive you…” Thranduil explained dryly. “He’s once again showed me his hospitality and kindness without even asking about the circumstances…you would stay there for a while until I figure out what to do next.”

 

Leuthil ignored the way Thranduil’s words sounded as if she had become a burden he had to carry. She was however eternally grateful that the Lord of Imladris had shown such kindness yet again although she was still in shock of the turn of events. But then another thought occurred to her and her arms tightened against her baby.

 

“What of Legolas?” she voiced her fear. “Will I not see him again?”

 

Thranduil looked back at her at last. His aquamarine eyes bore deep into her soul and Leuthil thought he saw a flash of disappointment there. “I never said such a thing…” he said flatly.

“You should wait until things are settled here and everyone believes your death…” he explained. “After that I will arrange for him to be brought to you once in a while.”

 

Leuthil knew it would be a long time until she could see Legolas again. She clung to him harder, the lump in her throat growing. But she understood the mercy Thranduil was showing and was grateful still. It could have been much worse. He could have denied her the chance to see him at all.

“Thank you…” she whispered again.

 

“I’m not doing this for you…” Thranduil clarified cruelly. “I’m doing this for _my son_. I want him to know his mother.”

 

It broke Leuthil’s heart. But she could not expect more. Unintentionally she had made Thranduil’s heart bleed and this was the best thing she would get in return. Still it was a solace to know that at last she could see Legolas at some point.

 

“What about you…?” she asked weakly, knowing how pathetic she sounded. “Will you not visit me?”

 

Thranduil’s gaze lingered on her. For a few moments he said nothing. Leuthil could tell he was putting his words in order. She remembered Queen Harma telling her to be patient when Thranduil became short of words.

 

“Our relationship is too tainted with heartbreak…” he said at last. “I don’t think it’s redeemable.” He then sighed and continued. “I’d been blind. I never saw that you were different from my mother. She was a Sindar born and raised in the stones of Doriath; armed to face the filth and hardship of being royalty. But you were different. You were a Silvan, raised to fight the hardship of nature but not one’s of soul. I was selfish and blind when I snatched you away from the natural life you should have had as a Silvan.”

He sighed again and swallowed a lump in his throat. His words had already caused Leuthil to weep harder. For they were true except for the fact that she too had chosen this life. “I knew that after Negaar, nothing was the same. That we were too broken to mend.” He continued. Then he looked up at her. “I hope that being away from me and my life would allow you to reconnect with your Silvan roots and find back the things you had lost because of me…I release you from any bond we have.”

 

Leuthil wanted to embrace him, wanted to tell him that freeing her was not going to free her heart that was captivated by him but Thranduil was right. They were too broken to be able to soothe each other or find back the heart of their relationship. So she only wept silently and pressed her son to her chest. Knowing that she would never see Thranduil again she would have gladly died then if it was not for the hope of seeing her son again. With careful steps Galdor approached them. “They should leave if they want to be out of the capital by dawn.” He warned.

 

Thranduil nodded and approached her. He held out his arms to take Legolas. Instinctively she clutched harder and tried to resist. Thranduil struggled a bit with her yet at last in between sobs and pleas he managed to take the baby away from her and hand him to Galdor. Legolas started to cry. Leuthil tried to run to him but Thranduil caught her in his arms. She wept on his chest and he allowed it. He allowed himself that single moment to feel her warmth and the trembling of her body. He held her for a while, inhaling the scent of her hair. His tunic was wet from her tears. His own tears ran down his cheeks as well. He leaned his face and place a single kiss on her dried lips. He just wanted to remember the feel of her. Yet he had to let go of her if he wanted her to be safe. So slowly he ushered her to the cart.

 

One of the men held the fabric up and Thranduil helped her get into the cart. She did so as if in a daze. It broke her heart to see how she obeyed without any protest as if it would make no difference to her whether she died or not. When they made sure she was all set they wanted to pull the veil down but she called him one last time.

He gazed at her again, trying to engrave her beauty in memory. He noticed the silver chain around her neck and the little compass dangling from it. He knew Leuthil’s mother had given her that necklace. The necklace had brought them together in the first place when he had mended it for her. Leuthil’s voice snapped him out of the memories.

 

“We will see each other again…” she said softly.

 

Thranduil said nothing. He did not wish to kill her hope or his own hope nor did he want to encourage it. The veil was then pulled down obscuring his beloved from view. Galdor was telling the last minute instructions to the merchants. Thranduil was not listening. He only stared at the veil and before he knew the men had settled themselves on the cart and the horses were moving. Slow at first and then faster. Further away into the darkness.

 

Thranduil walked behind the cart like a lost soul of a dead man, when the horses started galloping he ran behind it for a few feet sobbing like a baby. Galdor called him. He then failed to follow them as nausea got the better of him. He had to halt when his stomach turned and he doubled over and retched the emptiness of his stomach from sorrow and agony. 

 

***

 

Though Thranduil was both mentally and physically exhausted sleep never came to his eyes that night. After hours of frantic pacing in the forest like a crazy stallion Galdor had finally managed to take him back to the royal chambers, now his own; the chamber where he had to reside in alone from now one. The King felt as if he had lost a limp and was twisting from agony. When it became clear that he would not calm Galdor brought Legolas to him which did a marvelous job in soothing his wounded soul.

 

Dawn came and went and Thranduil watched it from his seat in the balcony of the chamber. The seat opposite him was empty. Legolas was sleeping soundly on his lap sucking his little thumb in sleep. It was a bad habit he had developed lately but Leuthil had found it cute and did absolutely nothing about it while it inflamed Thranduil that this habit might be fixed on his son. Now he saw that he had been wrong and in fact it was cute and soon in a blink of an eye Legolas would drop it as he grew old.

 

He could hear the daily activities start behind his doors. Soon the council would be held in his absence and Galdor would declare Leuthil dead. It was absurd but they had engineered it this way and up until now it had worked. On the surface he had been able to stand up to his kingly duties and apply the law to everyone, while he had managed to keep the mother of his child alive and away from danger.

Now he just had to remain in his chamber for the rest of the day so that people would think he was mourning his loss. It felt bad to lie to his own subjects but he loved Leuthil more than them. And now that he was watching his son sleeping innocently on his lap Thranduil knew that he was not sorry for what he had done. Though he had inflicted pain upon himself and Leuthil, at least Legolas had a chance to see his mother again, to know her.

 

In fact it was not all pretending. He had been mourning. He had cried all night through until his weeping had made Legolas cry too and he forced himself to stop because of the baby. Thranduil had allowed himself that single day to mourn for himself. From tomorrow he had to start on a different task. He had to find his daughter. He had vowed to himself to search every town and every single village to find her. Only then he could forgive Leuthil and perhaps they could be reunited somehow.

 

Galdor brought him refreshments every couple of hours but except the wine the other foods remained untouched for he had no stomach to eat. He fed Legolas from the ceramic bottle Liadan had filled with milk. It gave him a serene feeling to watch the baby suck on the head with wide eyes. It made him smile despite his own sorrow to see how his small mouth could not gather all the liquid he was drinking greedily and the milk dripped from his little chin. Thranduil wiped it with care every time. His heart fluttered when Legolas played with his long hair.

 

But then the baby started crying as if he had an ailment. Thranduil tried to sing for him but it did nothing to calm him. He rocked him back and forth and tried everything but Legolas just kept wailing like the world was about to end. The tranquil moments were lost and Thranduil was starting to panic.

At some point the cries of the baby drew attention and to the king’s relief Aleth slipped into the room.

 

“Why is he crying?” she asked without introduction.

 

“I don’t know!” Thranduil said desperately. He had not felt so helpless before not even when his father died. “One minute he was alright and then suddenly…”

 

Aleth rushed to his side. “Did you feed him?” she questioned taking Legolas from him.

 

Thranduil nodded.

“Did he burp?” the Princess asked.

 

To that Thranduil merely looked at her sheepishly as if she was talking in an alien language. Aleth merely rolled her eyes. She place Legolas who was still crying on her shoulder and started tapping lightly on his back while her brother watched as if she was doing some strange magic. After a few seconds the baby made a loud burp and calmed almost immediately.

 

“There…” Aleth said, handing the young Prince back to his father who was still wide eyed. “You need to learn these things brother.”

 

Thranduil chose to ignore her comment as he took back his son. Aleth did not look in his eyes. He knew she was upset for Leuthil leaving and perhaps she held Thranduil responsible. She turned to leave but Thranduil called her. The Princess looked back at him.

 

“I know you blame me for all of this…” he said. “But know that I had no choice…”

 

Something changed in Aleth’s expression. Though she did not smile her eyes became softer.

“I know you didn’t…”she sighed. “I feel very lonely, and she was only my friend…I guess you must be feeling much worse.”

 

Thranduil was relieved to hear her words. The air between them became lighter and Aleth gave him a smile however sad it was.

 

After that she helped him change Legolas which Thranduil found a very hard task. Aleth showed him how to do it properly and though his fingers were clumsy and his fear for hurting Legolas stupid he learned fast. They even shared light moments despite their sorrow.

 

It was evening when Galdor brought the King another light meal and Aleth left. Thranduil ate small portions of bread and cheese, downing them with the help of wine. He only ate because he didn’t want to grow week from self-inflected hunger and cause more trouble for the Steward. Legolas was gurgling lightly while he played with his toes. Before all these happened his wife had told him that Legolas had recently discovered his feet and had found them fascinating. Though the scene brought a smile to his face the memory pressed heavily on his heart. He wondered where Leuthil was at the moment. Had they managed to reach the boarders of the forest? It was ironic that he was the King of a realm that could not be a safe home for his own wife. To give up judgment to the council of the wise was a law he had established for the good of his subjects and he was the one who had become the victim of it.

 

Thranduil was exhausted. He could hardly keep his eyes open. The moon was high above the sky so it was probably deep into the night. He crawled on the bed and lay on his side as he placed Legolas closer to himself. He watched and caressed the baby for a while but soon his eyelids were too heavy to keep open and slowly he fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

Years of training had made Thranduil a light sleeper but even the heaviest sleeper of the world would have jumped awake from the sound of the door being dashed open. Thranduil sat in his bed startled, his heart racing. For a few moments he was disoriented losing the time and place. He finally remembered that he was in his chamber and it was deep into the night. The room was dark and even the corridor outside that could be seen through the open door was completely lightless. So Thranduil could tell it was well past midnight that the palace was in such a state. From the sound of the door opening Legolas had been awakened as well and was crying full force, Thranduil was so perplexed that he could not gather his limps much less soothe his baby.

 

Something soft hit him in the face and disrupted his sight for a second. He pulled the fabric off his head and realized it was one of his riding leggings. He suddenly remembered that someone had rushed inside his room and as his sight got adjusted to the darkness he saw Galdor who was frantically searching his closet and throwing random clothes at him.

 

“Galdor?” he asked still a bit hazy from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Hurry…” the Steward ordered, confirming that he was not sleepwalking. “Change your clothes we need to leave now!”

 

The urgency in Galdor’s voice would have moved mountains. So despite being in the dark the King started pulling the leggings up his legs. “What’s wrong?” he asked again as he rubed Legolas’ stomach to calm the crying baby.

 

Galdor pulled out a tunic that he seemingly deemed agreeable and threw it on the bed for Thranduil to wear and then he turned towards the King. His face was white as the sheets and he was panting and Thranduil could tell the Steward was trying to control his panic as he ran for Thranduil’s sword and bow.

 

“What’s wrong Galdor?” the Sindar asked again desperately. “Tell me!”

 

“The border patrol brought in a report right now…!” the Steward said. “They’ve found a merchant cart. It had been attacked by bandits…three men are reported dead.”

 

Thranduil’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart skipped a few beats. Legolas cried were turning to real wails. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D :D :D


	81. Chapter 81

It was dawn when Thranduil and Galdor reached their destination. They had galloped continuously all through the night. Galdor’s stallion had foam around his mouth and neighed restlessly. Running behind the King’s elk was not an easy job. Now they had finally come to a halt.

 

The morning mist had covered the clearing making the elves that moved around look like ghosts that could not find rest in their tombs. The legion of 10 were the ones who had sent them the news that a cart had been found attacked by bandits near the waterfall. They approached the scene fast. Galdor could hardly keep up with Thranduil’s pace. He could feel the King’s fear even though the Sindar had his back on him. The scent of death was everywhere.

 

The cart was upside down. Its wheels facing the air. Its consignment of potatoes scattered on the forest floor. Thranduil was petrified. Galdor could hear his labored breathing. He feared the King might collapse any second. The Steward inspected the scene. The cart had blood on it. On its left lied one of the merchants. He was dead. A huge wound was visible on his stomach exposing the insides of his organs. Blood had pooled around him.

A few feet away the other merchant lay dead. His throat was split. His eyes were still open, gazing at the sky like he had not believed his swift death. With a distance the last man had fallen with an arrow on his back. Galdor inspected the arrow. It was not orc made but was definitely the messy work of men.

 

An elleth approached them. The redhead was the captain of the legion. Galdor remembered the day she was assigned as captain. Her face was the same but her eyes had changed from that day. They held much burden and sorrow now as if they had seen too much. She bowed to the King. Thranduil seemed not to notice. His eyes were scanning the surroundings. Galdor could see sweat gathering on his brow. The Steward knew what he was looking for. There was no sign of the fourth companion of the group.

 

“What happened Captain…?” Galdor asked at last, though he already knew the answer. The elleth fixed her sharp green eyes on him.

 

“Bandits my lord.” She answered. “They’ve attacked ruthlessly believing this cart to have valuable consignment. After killing these poor men they have come for the shipment. We arrived when they were arguing among themselves over the potatoes! ”

 

Her voice was flat and emotionless. It angered the Steward but he could not blame her. These things happened on the dangerous roads on the boarders of the forest where wayward men could come and go easily. She did not care about the merchants or the consignments. The Captain did not consider the load valuable. She did not know that the true thing they had been carrying was in fact invaluable.

 

“They ran off just as we attacked them.” She added. “My men went after them.”

 

“Was there no one else here?” at last the King croaked. Galdor could feel he was short of breath.

 

The elleth looked puzzled. “No my lord!” she answered. “Though we did not search, we did not think there would be anyone…”

 

“There _was_ another one with them!” Thranduil interrupted heatedly. The Captain was taken aback by the King’s anger but said nothing. “Search!” the Sindar barked. Galdor knew well he was hiding his overwhelming fear behind his rage.

 

“At once my King!” the elleth said. With a swift bow of her head she ran off, ordering her companions to search the surroundings.

 

Galdor took a step towards Thranduil but before he could reach him the King started striding away. With a fake composed expression he was inspecting the earth around the cart for traces. Galdor’s stomach was lurching with worry. He understood Thranduil’s fear yet he needed the King to be careful and control his emotions. They had after all helped the Queen run away and if the Sindar was not careful their plan would be revealed. The Steward did not wish to think of its consequences.

 

“Thranduil…” Galdor called after him. The King seemed not to have heard him as he continued his search.

 

“Thranduil…” the Steward called again trying to keep up with the King’s pace as his searching became frantic.

 

“There are traces of someone crawling!” Thranduil said disregarding the Steward’s calls. Galdor finally grabbed his elbow and shook him hard.

 

“Thranduil be careful!” he warned in a hushed tone. “They must never know!”

 

“There are traces Galdor!” the Sindar said desperately. The tingle of hope in his voice broke Galdor’s heart.

 

“Thranduil!” the Steward hissed as he grabbed the King’s pale jaw in between firm fingers, making Thranduil look at him. “If they learn what you have done…”

 

“I don’t care!” Thranduil growled. Tears dropped from his eyes. Galdor knew then that the Sindar was losing his mind. “I need to find her.

 

“My Lords over here!” a soldier called from above a rock over the waterfall.

 

Thranduil dashed toward the sentry. Galdor followed. They climbed up the small hill. The moist of the waterfall sat on their faces, the sound of the wild water filled their ears. The waterfall was one of the beauties of Greenwood, yet in that moment Galdor realized how deadly it could be.

 

“We found one of the bandits…” the soldier explained when they reached him. “Though he’s wounded.”

 

It was true. The man was shot by an elven arrow. Clearly one of the arrows shot from the legion had found its target. He was young. He had seen no more than 20 winters. Blood was pouring out of the wound on his stomach as he lay on his back on the solid rock that was wet from the water splashing from the waterfall.

 

With long strides Thranduil reached the young man. Galdor ordered the sentry to leave them and was glad that the elf did not question his orders. The King kneeled down beside the man and grabbed his throat. The man’s grey eyes shot open and he looked back at the Sindar with pure fear dancing in his eyes.

 

“Where is she?” Thranduil asked directly.

 

“Who?” the man coughed that gained him a hit from the King.

 

“The elleth that was with them…” Thranduil greeted his teeth. “What did you do with her…?”

 

The man coughed a few times. Blood splashed out from his mouth. “She fell…” he managed to rasp out. “The silly thing preferred to jump in the waterfall and die than to have our hands on her pretty body.”

 

That was the man’s last words as Thranduil pressed his throat. The man struggled. His hands cut the air in vain and then everything stopped. The king shoved his dead body aside and rose to his feet. His whole body trembled as he walked towards the edge of the waterfall. He had always thought of this place beautiful. Now he was realizing how undefeatable the wild water looked. He looked down. From where he was standing, it was at least a hundred feet to the bottom. No one could survive this fall even if the roaring water was not there to tear one’s body apart. His stomach twisted and he bent down on his own body. His knees hit the rock.

 

On the ground something glittering caught his eyes. It was a necklace; a compass dangling from a chain.

 

***

 

Thranduil opened his eyes with much difficulty. His eyelids were heavy as if the gravity was duplicated upon them. He assumed it was the effect of the sedative herbs the healers gave him, though they had had almost no effect in calming him. Sleep had ran away from him until he had ordered one of the healers to bring him opium. The King remembered his past dealings with the opium syrup and though he dreaded it, he knew it would have the result he was looking for. And he desperately needed to sleep. The healer was reluctant at first but seeing the King’s condition he had agreed. If Thranduil was not allowed to go look for his wife then he would rather spend his time unconscious.

 

Three days had passed. Three days and nights of searching the whole forest. They had climbed down the waterfall. Elves had been sent inside the water to search the huge pool underneath and they had even looked behind the wild water wall pouring down. All along the river was searched. Yet they found nothing, no sign, and no trace. Except the necklace Thranduil had found on the first day, there was no trace that a fourth person had been with the merchants. Some of the elves in the search group thought the King mad since they did not even know who they were looking for. They believed he had hallucinated a fourth companion. Especially watching his frantic behavior they could not be blamed for their assumptions.

 

So on the second day Galdor had banished him to the Stronghold. They had argued. They had fought heatedly. Thranduil had become hysterical and had given the Steward all the more reason to leave him out from the search. Shamefully Thranduil had to admit that in his hysteria he had even become violent with Galdor, leaving no choice for the Steward to knock him unconscious. It was an awkward moment to happen in front of the sentries and normally Thranduil would have been embarrassed but at the moment he could not care less. He did not have the strength to care.

 

He had woken up in his chamber with healers surrounding him and guards at his door. The guards did not allow him exit his room, reminding him that the Lord Steward had given them direct orders to keep their king inside. The irony was that they did not obey the said king. At last Thranduil had given up. He spent the days pacing his room. At a moment when he was left alone he shattered all the furniture in the chamber. When the healers returned and found him sitting among the broken objects with bloodied hands, they were convinced that it was better for him to be sleep.

 

So after that he just lay face down on his bed, too drugged to be able to change his travelling tunic. At some point when he opened his eyes he believed Aleth was in the room. She removed his boots for him and gently placed his feet on the bed but Thranduil was too intoxicated to show any reaction or even give his gratitude for the care his sister was showing. He was glad they had taken Legolas away from his room.

 

When the fourth day came Thranduil slowly began to truly feel the terror of the situation. Galdor had not visited since the day he had sent the Sindar to his chamber like a sorry child, which meant that he had found nothing. Thranduil was starting to believe that there was nothing to be found. It made him squeeze the tiny compass harder in his palm. The chain of the necklace left marks on his skin.

 

It was midnight of the fourth day since the attack that at last Galdor payed him a visit. Thranduil was half asleep on his bed with the effect of opium still surging in his veins. A healer was in his chamber though he could no longer follow what she was doing. He heard the door open and saw the Steward enter. Even in that hazy state he recognized him and tried to sit but failed. His eyelids kept dropping which annoyed him. He wanted to be alert. He needed to see what Galdor had found.

 

The King felt Galdor’s cool fingers take his chin and turn his face towards him. He could not keep his eyes open no matter how much he tried. He heard Galdor talk to the healer and at a point they were not talking anymore but arguing. The Steward was shouting and his voice was so harsh in Thranduil’s ears. He could grab some words in between. He knew Galdor was admonishing the healer for the use of opium. Thranduil knew the sensitivity of the Steward over this particular drug. He had after all lost his parents to it. Thranduil felt sorry for the poor healer.

 

_“I will not have you addict him to that rubbish!”_ he heard Galdor yell and then there was the sound of a bottle shattering on the floor. Thranduil guessed all the opium was lost. The healer said something back and then there was the loud bang of the door being shut, and then silence. Thranduil thought Galdor had left; convinced that the Sindar was too useless and hopeless. The thought pressed on his chest. Somehow the Steward thinking less of him made him feel even worst and created a lump in his throat. But then there was a strong hand on his back and Galdor’s firm yet tender voice that was encouraging him to sit up. He did though he swayed dangerously and Galdor had to pull him up so he could lean on the headboard. Thranduil hated his inability. He regretted the decision he had made about the drug. It seemed that he had lost all his ability to think straight and with the situation he had gotten himself in, the Sindar was only adding to Galdor’s problems instead of helping. 

 

Galdor gave him water. Lots of it. He washed his face with freezing water and had him drink it glass after glass until after what seemed like hours his mind cleared. He could then see the Steward clearly now. Galdor was still in his travelling tunic, which was dusty from the days he had spent in the wild. He had bags under his eyes from days going with no sleep and his eyes held such deep sorrow that Thranduil found he could not hold his gaze, though Galdor avoided looking at him in the first place.

 

“Have you found her…?” Thranduil slurred difficultly. “Is that why you returned?”

 

Galdor looked up at him though he did not answer immediately. He seemed to have lost his words. There was a twitch on his lips. Thranduil could feel he was under great pressure.

 

“I called off the search party Thranduil…” Galdor declared at last in a flat tone that was clearly fake.

 

Thranduil was silent for a few moments. His mind was too slow in registering what Galdor’s words meant. “Why…?” was all he could voice.

 

Galdor shifted uncomfortably. His eyes were watering and Thranduil could not tell if it was from exhaustion or sorrow or both. “I think…” he stammered and trailed off. He closed his eyes as if he could not hold Thranduil’s gaze as he said what he needed to say. “I think we should declare her dead…”

 

For Thranduil the sentence was like a stone dropping into silent water. Only that silent water was his sanity. “Have…have you…found her?” he rasped, a single tear leaving his blind eye unbidden.  

 

Galdor shook his head. “No…” he sighed shakily. “I don’t think there’s anything to be found.”

 

“What do you mean?” the Sindar whispered, his breath already coming short.

 

The Steward gazed at him pleadingly though Thranduil could not understand what he was begging for with his eyes. Perhaps he wanted to be spared from explaining his thoughts to the King. But Thranduil would not have any of it. “She’s not dead…” the Sindar said and he was sobbing. “I can’t _feel_ her death…” he sat up straighter and placed his hand on his heart believing that it might make the Steward understand what he was talking about. Uncontrollable tears were running down his face. Hysteria was taking him over again but he continued his frantic talking. “I should have felt something if she was dead…why am I alive if she is dead?”

 

His shaking was going out of hand and Galdor was at his side in a second. The Steward grabbed his trembling hands in his in a soothing gesture. He too was crying though in a more reserved way than the King. “Thranduil, no one survives such a fall…” he tried to explain. “Her body…nothing remains from…nothing remains from someone who falls from such a height under such wild waters…the force of the water is enough to…to rip flesh apart.” He held Thranduil’s shoulders when the King’s sobs shook his body. “Even if anything had remained…it’s…it’s a forest…the animals leave nothing…”

 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Thranduil wailed as he covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. Anything Galdor had said became moving images in his mind. He saw as Leuthil ran from the men that wanted to assault her; frightened and alone. The disgusting laughter of the bandits filled his head. And then he saw as she fell into the waterfall. He heard her pained scream as the water teared her body apart before she even reached the bottom. He watched the river take her body away; or what was remained of it. And then the hyenas and vultures feasted on it.

 

Thranduil opened his eyes. Tears streamed down on his face freely. His stomach lurched. He knew he was going to be sick and wanted to run to the bathing chamber. Galdor understood and jumped from where he had been sitting on the bed. He tried to help Thranduil stand but the King’s head was swinging. His body twisted and he retched. Only bile came out of his mouth since his stomach was empty. But it left him shaking more. He fell on his knees and pressed his face on the carpet. He hated his life. He hated himself.

 

***

 

The search parties were called off. Galdor appeared in the court the next day; melancholic yet firm. He declared to the council that their verdict had been executed and that the Queen was now dead. If anyone had known anything about what truly had transpired they said nothing. One of the councilors asked about the whereabouts of the grave. Galdor said that the Queen’s last wish was to be burned.

 

The news traveled fast and soon everyone knew that the Queen had been executed. The further the villages were the further their version of the story was to the truth. Thranduil had ordered that the execution would never be written in history books. That no one was allowed to talk about it and no trainer or teacher was allowed to discuss it with their learners. It was surprising that after almost a month passing from the tragedies this was what happened. The people and the council treated it as the event that should not be named. With this attitude Galdor knew that soon all the memories of the Silvan Queen would be forgotten. It both relieved and saddened him.

 

For a whole month no one had seen the King. Only Galdor went to his room to visit him and take food to him. Sometimes Aleth went in and stayed for a little while but not long. Thranduil’s situation was too much for her to observe. Most of the time he pretended to be sleep to avoid talking to everyone. The rest of the time he cried and screamed and cursed the skies and the Valar. At nights he pressed Leuthil’s pillow to his nose and hugged it to find some semblance of peace.

 

After a month of sheer mourning Thranduil got out one midnight. He walked through the empty corridors of his Stronghold. He had built that underground city with hopes; hopes of creating a better life for his family; a safer life. He had failed yet again. The Stronghold that was supposed to be their safe refuge was nothing more than useless rock. The laws he had established to create a better society for his subjects were daggers that had stabbed his beloved and the family he had wished to have were torn apart with one daughter dead, the other lost and a son that he could not gather the will to look at.

 

He had not set eyes upon Legolas since that night that Galdor came with that horrible news. He guessed Aleth had taken him away to their own chambers so that she could look after him with Liadan, Leuthil’s maid whom the baby loved. Thranduil missed his son. His heart cramped in his chest when he thought of him and he longed to hold his child. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look in those innocent eyes and face the silent questions that they held. The baby certainly wanted to know where his mother was and why was she not feeding him, or holding him. Guilt ripped Thranduil’s heart apart.

 

It was unbelievable how the control of the matters were in his hands in one moment and in an instant everything seemed to slip out of his grasp like a wriggling fish. When planning Leuthil’s escape he had not thought of himself one bit. Thranduil was too angered and heartbroken by his wife to think of ever seeing her again. He had predicted that with time in case he found his lost daughter, he might forget his ire. But in those moments that he was thinking his mind out to find a way for his wife to escape her death Thranduil only thought about his son. The King remembered his own mother and he knew that without her influence, his life would have been much worse with his father alone. Thranduil still remembered her embrace; calm and always welcoming. He did not want to deprive this love from his son. He wanted Legolas to know his mother, he wanted the Prince to experience the unconditional love of his mother and to learn to love back. The King knew there were things that only a mother could teach a child, and however short Legolas’ visits to Imladris would have been; Thranduil wanted the sessions to exist for his son’s sake. But now all was lost and he had no one to blame but himself. How could he look into his son’s eyes when he had sent his mother to her death? It was perhaps better for him to grow without his father as well. Aleth would do a better job in raising his son.

 

Thranduil had reached the forest now and was walking in the woods. The wind was cold, reminding that autumn was upon them. The trees were singing a lament, sympathizing in their King’s sorrow. Some lowered their branches and Thranduil allowed their leaves to caress his tears. He came to a clearing and lay on the forest floor. The sky was clear and Mars was bright that night.

 

Thranduil did not fall asleep there but rested motionless as he gazed at the stars. He thought about his life and wondered if things could be different. As a child he remembered his life to be torn apart from the fall of Doriath. He had been a victim of a war initiated only because of greed. He had not understood then that why people would fight over some sparkling gems. But he understood now. After Doriath nowhere else felt like home. But Greenwood had eventually become theirs and Thranduil learned to call the forest his home. He wondered how things would have been different if his father had never come to the woods, if the Silvan had not chosen Oropher as their king. Certainly his life would have been much easier. And yet if they had not come, Thranduil would have never met Leuthil. He doubted if he would have ever learned the meaning of love had he not met her. She was a blessing. She was his salvation.

 

But now that the pain of loss ran through his body Thranduil doubted. He hated himself for feeling that way but he wished that he had never known her, that he had never cared and that he had never fallen in love. He would have had only one regret then; that he had not found true love. But he would have been spared many more pains and wounds of soul. He wished he could stop loving.

 

Thranduil closed his eyes. He was exhausted. He wished he could sleep. Not the kind of sleep the healers intoxicated him into, but those kinds of reverie that came only when he listened to his mother singing a lullaby, or came when he held Leuthil close to his chest. The realm of sleep was where he would find peace. The land where the only vision was darkness and the only sound was silence. Thranduil wanted to free his faer from the confines of his body. All that he ever cared for was either across the sea and out of his reach or residing in the land of the ever asleep. Of course his son was still here. But he was young, he had an eternity to live and find happiness. He would never remember him and perhaps it was better that way. Thranduil with his shattered soul would only be a hindrance in his son’s happiness. He wished he would just fade.

 

_“Thranduil…”_

It was Galdor’s soft voice calling him and his gentle hand on his shoulder that brought him back to reality. He slowly opened his eyes to the grey light of early morning. He heard Galdor’s mount snicker and was surprised to learn he had not heard the horse approaching, so close to freeing his faer he had been. Disappointment filled his mind but he did not show it. The Steward sat on the forest floor beside him. He looked old, very old.

 

“I searched everywhere for you…” he sighed. There was no reproach in his voice.

 

Thranduil did not answer. Galdor picked at the Sindar’s golden hair splayed on the forest floor. There were leaves and small insects tangled in his locks. After a while he helped Thranduil sit and then stand.

 

Galdor mounted his horse and helped the King up to sit behind him. Once settled Thranduil’s slim arms circled around the Steward’s waist in a lose grip and he leaned his cheek on Galdor’s strong back. The Silvan could feel how close to shattering Thranduil was. He urged his horse forward.

 

Their short trip back to the Stronghold was done in complete silence. Thranduil ascended the stairs and passed the corridors towards his chamber like a shell empty of soul. It scared the Steward though he did not voice it as he walked beside his King. As an elf and the Sindar’s closest friend Galdor could feel how close he was to losing himself completely. The King came to a sudden halt when he saw the door of his chamber was open and there was a maid inside.

 

The maid was Liadan and she was cleaning the royal chamber that had been unattended for a long time. She had used the King’s absence and was doing the job she was used to do for centuries. But she could not feel Thranduil’s heart beat like drums of war as he dashed forward inside the room. The maid gave the King a mumbled greeting as she curtsied. But Thranduil was not looking at her, he was eyeing the room that was now clean and fresh.

 

The bed was freshly made and he recognized that the bed covers were changed as well. His chest hurt. He turned to the maid. “Have you changed the sheets?” he asked breathlessly.

 

The maid was confused since it was a strange question coming from the King. Normally he would not interfere in such matters. She tarried a little in answering which made the Sindar impatient.

 

“Have you changed the sheets?” he asked desperately with a harshness that he had never used with the maid.

 

Liadan exchanged a look with Galdor. They did not know what had made the King so restless.

“I …” the maid started but Thranduil pushed her away and strode to the bed pulling the bed cover aside to reveal freshly placed sheets. His breath was becoming too short when he turned towards the maid.

 

“Why did you change them?” he suddenly yelled, which made both the Steward and Liadan jump.

 

“My lord I…” the maid stammered but was interrupted by the King’s shouts.

 

“And you changed the pillow covers too!!!” he cried as if the world was about to end. “Why? WHY?”

 

Galdor was too shocked to say or do anything but the maid tried to explain herself.

“My Lord I wanted the bed to be fresh for your return…”

 

“Where are the sheets?” the King asked with panic.

 

Liadan opened her mouth but then closed it like a fish out of water. She had never been the subject of the King’s wrath and truly she could not fathom why the King was angry with her and…and crying. She gave Galdor a desperate look as if the Steward could save her.

 

“I washed them my lord…” she finally said in a low tone as if it would pacify the King’s rage.

 

Thranduil trembled like a newly born colt. “FUCK LIADAN!” he cried as he pressed his palms to his eyes. He rushed to the bed and started ripping the new sheets apart as he screamed. “The sheets smelled of her! They smelled of her!”

 

The maid was sobbing. She had at last realized what had made the King so mad. Galdor placed a tender hand on her back and urged her out of the chamber. When he made sure she was gone he turned to Thranduil who had managed to tear all the sheets and was panting in the middle of the room like a wounded tiger.

 

“Thranduil…” the Steward said softly as he took a step towards him. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

 

“Leave me!” Thranduil yelled which stopped Galdor midway. Thranduil gazed at him pleadingly. “Please…” he sobbed.

 

Galdor did not wish to leave. He did not know what would happen if Thranduil was to sink low in his thoughts and feelings again. But he understood that the Sindar needed to be alone.

“Call me if you need anything…” he mumbled before going out. “I’ll be around.”

 

Thranduil did not acknowledge his words. He was too busy trying to control his rage. The wrath he had shown the maid was not half the rage he was feeling. He wanted to strangle the elleth. He wanted to hit her head on the bedpost until she died.

The sheets. Leuthil had rested on them. Her heat had warmed them. They kept her scent. Her odor was the only thing he clung to at nights however faint it was. Now his sheets smelled like soap. Thranduil sobbed harder.

He walked to the closet they had shared. Her garments were still hanging there. It was where her scent was the strongest. He caressed the fabric with trembling fingers and at last pulled a dress off the hook. It was a crimson velvet garment. He could not remember when she had worn it. He wanted so much to imagine her in it but his mind did not help him.

 

Thranduil sobbed. He had no shame now. He climbed the bed. His boots ruined the sheets further as he dropped on the mattress. He pressed the dress to his face. Her scent filled his nostrils again. Soon the odor would leave the garments he knew. Guilt washed over him for treating the maid like that, for behaving the way he was. He cried himself to asleep.

 

 

 

It was almost noon when he woke up. His eyes were swollen and they hurt. The garment was still pressed to his face. His stomach lurched, reminding him that he had not eaten decently for days. But the thought of food made him sick. In fact the thought of anything relating to normal living made him sick. He didn’t want to eat anymore, he didn’t want to sleep, or talk, or be king. He didn’t want to _be_ anymore. Why could he not just fade?

 

Annoyance surged through him as he raised from the bed. With all the things that had happened to him, Thranduil could not understand why he was still alive. He should have died in Doriath. He should have died in the Last Alliance. He should have stayed in the old capital and allowed the darkness to consume him. He should have died from poison. But all he ever did was survive. He survived while his loved ones died one after the other.

 

If the Valar did not want him to fade, if he had become brazen-bodied; then he would take the matters into his own hands. He would finish himself and there was nothing the cruel Gods could do about it.

 

Thranduil opened the door to the balcony. The sun shined brightly on him. The moment he stepped on the balcony the singing of the birds stopped. As if they had learned about his intentions. He pulled out his boots and placed them neatly on the side. His bare feet touched the warm stone of the balcony floor. His legs were long so with one swift motion he managed to stand on the stone railing. The width of the railing was just barely enough for him to stand on his tiptoes. But it was not going to be a problem since Thranduil was not planning to stay up there a long time.

 

He gazed at the forest; his Great Greenwood. He wanted to keep an image of it in his mind before dying. Thranduil closed his eyes then. A serenity settled in his heart and he was ready to let go. A swift fall and all would end.

 

But he did not fall. Instead an arm was circled around his waist and pulled him back sharply, with a force he could not have fought against. He had wrestled with the Steward enough in their youth to recognize the feel of his body as they fell to the balcony floor with their limbs entangled and Thranduil cursing. Galdor untangled himself fast and he was on his feet the next moment. But before Thranduil could gather himself up Galdor’s backhanded him across his cheek full force. He fell backwards on his elbow from the force and it took his vision a second to clear but before he could give any reaction Galdor hit him again.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the Steward yelled as he slapped Thranduil again this time deriving blood from the King’s nose. “You fucking selfish bastard!”

 

Seeing the blood on Thranduil’s face, the Steward stopped his blows. The Sindar was sprawled on the floor panting and sobbing. Galdor too was panting too and he was so angry that it scared Thranduil. After a moment the Steward grabbed a fistful of his hair with a harshness Thranduil had never seen from the Silvan. He tugged on the Sindar’s golden locks so hard that it made Thranduil groan from the pain as he was forced to look up at Galdor’s enraged faced. “You’re going to come with me…” the Steward declared.

 

He pulled Thranduil by his hair deriving gasps and groans of pain. But the Sindar was to scared of the violence Galdor was showing to protest. Only Oropher had ever dared to treat him like that. The Steward pulled him around by his hair and they exited the room. Seemingly the Silvan did not care anyone seeing him manhandling his king. But fortunately they encountered no one as Galdor’s intended destination was close.

 

With a kick the Steward opened the door to his apartment with Aleth and shoved Thranduil inside. The Sindar fell to the floor and tried to gather himself up while Galdor closed the door with his booted foot. Thranduil recognized the sound of Legolas crying before he spotted his son’s cradle in the room. Before he knew Galdor had his iron grip in his hair again. Before he could protest the Steward pulled him up by his hold on the Sindar’s locks and took him to the cradle where the baby was crying.

 

For the first time in a month Thranduil finally set eyes on his son. The pulling of his hair had brought tears to his eyes but still he could see the soft blond hair on Legolas’ head had grown. After seeing him Legolas stopped crying immediately, looking up at his father with curious eyes. Thranduil longed to hold him.

 

“Look at him!” Galdor yelled, which initiated another round of crying from the baby. But the Steward was not about to stop shouting. “Look at how vulnerable he is. How is he going to survive without you?”

 

The Silvan then pushed Thranduil to the floor like he was some useless puppet. Somehow the disgracing treatment was awakening the King from the numb state he had sunk in.

Galdor sat on his knees in front of him, jaw set and eyes full of unsaid things.

 

“Do you think that with your death everything would be over? Do you truly think they would leave your son be?” he said in a calmer tone. “He’s just a tiny obstacle between your enemies and the throne. They would kill him the second after you die!” he then sighed and sat back on his haunches. “How can you do this to your son?”

 

Thranduil had retreated to the far wall. He was huddled against it and cried silently. His cheeks burned from the blows they had taken. Long minutes passed in silence.

“He looks for you…” Galdor said at last. His gaze going to the baby. “When Aleth or I hold him, he points towards different chambers as if he’s waiting for someone.” Galdor’s voice was shaking. “He doesn’t need us…he needs his parents.”

 

“His mother is dead…” Thranduil whispered.

 

“Yet his father is here; alive…and able to love him, to care for him.” Galdor said. Then the Steward stood. “I think as his father it’s time for you to take your responsibilities back!” he declared.

 

Then the Steward walked out of the door. Legolas was still crying. Thranduil covered his ears as he huddled against the wall and cried with him.

 

Guilt tore at him as he finally stood on shaky legs and went to the cradle. With trembling fingers he picked his son up and held him against his chest. “Shshsh…it’s alright baby…” he whispered. “Ada is here…”

 

Slowly Legolas calmed and his sobs became hiccups. It made Thranduil smile despite the tears still dancing in his eyes. The baby gave him a toothless smile back and started playing with his hair. The King slowly sat on the bed and rocked his son against his chest.

 

Suddenly Thranduil felt the warmth of life surge through him as if he had drunk from a blessed fountain. He could not believe he had tried to kill himself not a while ago. He could not believ he had forgotten about the blessing of his life. He looked down at his son softly and for a long while he just gazed at the baby. The only thing he had left to fight for.

 

“I guess it’s going to be just me and you for now…” he said to Legolas.

 

In his response Legolas gurgled happily and tugged on his hair. Thranduil could not resist leaning down and kissing his son’s soft face. Somehow the future seemed less dark. 

 

***

 

The sound of the wild water still echoed in her ears. Whenever she fell asleep, she would wake up startled with the memory of falling and a hard crash. Her eyes would open to darkness and the smell of damp felt filled her nostrils. It had taken days for her to understand where she was. At first she could not distinguish her times of wakefulness from sleep, since both were dark. When she started hearing voices around her, she learned that she was awake. Then she had panicked for she thought that her eyes had lost their sight. But there were soothing voices around her. She could not distinguish their words but could tell that they were friendly and tender.

 

Then she had recognized the smell of felt and the feel of it pressing on her face. She learned that she could not move her limbs though she felt them and they were all extremely painful. In fact it was the pain that knocked her unconscious from time to time. She was being carried. Sometimes she could feel that someone was taking her burden and other times she knew she had been placed on a cart or a horse. The movements worsened the pain that ran up and down her spine and her legs and mostly her head. But the voices of people around her were soothing.

 

She had lost the count of days. It seemed like an eternity. The first time they unrolled her from the felt she had been wrapped in she could not move a single muscle but could only moan from pain. The weather was cold…freezing and that was when she learned they had wrapped her in such a rough fabric to protect her from cold. Her head felt as if it was split open. And she guessed it was for from her blurry sight she could see people tend to her and mostly to her head. They applied substances she could not recognize on her face and head and massaged it for a while. They smelled like honey and fat. Then they would roll her up in the felt again and continue their journey.

 

Most of the time she wandered in her thoughts. She remembered everything. But mostly she dreamed of gold and silver hair and aquamarine eyes. In her hazy state she heard laughter of a baby. And sometimes she dreamed of wild roses. Her only connection to the real world was the smell of felt and horse shit and sometimes the gentle hands of the people who tended to her; and of course the pain. The good people who cared for her were travelers. She had learned as much. They constantly journeyed and she did not know where their destinations was. She guessed they had no intended destination. They travelled for days and then stayed in some place for a while but never too long. Then they packed and travelled again. All she knew was that they were taking her further away from her life towards the realm of the unknown.

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so here we are.   
> This was officially the last chapter of the first part of the series. I’m currently writing the second part of the series and will post its first chapter immediately after I edit it. I don’t believe it will take longer than usual for me to post.   
> I shall like to thank all those who have read, kudoed and mostly those who have taken the time to comment. Your reviews were what kept me writing all the time. I thank all of you who stayed with me for this time and never gave up on me despite the delays.   
> I will put the link to the second part of the series here once it is posted. So if you’ve subscribed I believe you’ll receive it. I hope that you would follow me to the next part.


	82. Chapter 82

Hey there!

This is the link to the second part :)

[Glorious King of Weak Lands Book II](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6776101/chapters/15486862)

 


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